Post by "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce on May 6, 2012 15:54:01 GMT -5
(The day before the Log Cabin Republican Convention)
Henry the receiving clerk danced down the aisles, pushing a dust mop, his attention fixated both on his remedial task and the playlist of Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting from his ipod. Believing himself alone, as it would be on any other given day, he belted out a passable rendition of “Ooh, That Smell,” as he wove the mop back and forth to catch as much of the filth as he can. Behind him, an amused security guard, the one he knows as Bob, watched the free show with a grin. Flanking the guard were two rather severe looking men wearing sunglasses and an earpiece. Clad in plain black suits, they stood behind Bob with their hands clasped in front of them. If their stance were any stiffer, one would have expected to see large popsicle sticks growing from their backside. A pair of German Sheppards sat patiently beside both of the men awaiting their task. “Sir?” started the elder of the two men sternly, “We really DO need to begin. This is a very large building.”
Bob’s amusement melted into a combination of anxiety and seriousness. “Right.” He bowed his head briefly and returned his attention to the dancing clerk. “Henry.” His meek attempt not getting a response, he tried again. “Henry!” Still nothing. He stepped toward the man, and picked one of the earpieces out of Henry’s ears. “HENRY!”
Henry practically climbed out of his own skin. The sound of the mop handle clanking on the floor as the startled man makes every attempt to climb over a pallet of displays in their cases. Finally, as his mind grasped the reality of the transaction he emerged. “Holy fuck, Bob!” The guard couldn’t help but peal with laughter as his co-worker clutched his chest, breathing rapidly. “Don’t DO that!”
His joviality subsiding, he put a hand on Henry’s still heaving shoulder. “Sorry, Henry. It was the only way I could get your attention.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the two suited men. “These guys are from the Secret Service. They need to run an inspection of the building. They left their sense of humor at home, too. They want to start here if that’s okay.”
“Yeah. That’s fine. Probably protocol or something.” Henry leans the mop up against a rack and straightened himself up a bit before heading to greet the newcomers. He spied the dogs beside each man. “Aww… You brought doggies. I’m a dog lover.”
As he stepped to the men he began to reach down with an open hand, only to be met with a low, threatening growl. “Don’t do that, sir,” ordered the younger, black haired man. Henry quickly jerked his hand back, standing bolt upright. “They are trained bomb dogs, and don’t like anyone they don’t know.”
“I see,” Henry complied with an incredulous look on his face. He composed himself and extended a hand to the gentlemen. “Henry O’Doole, at your service.” His hand wasn’t met by either of his guests, causing him to withdraw it, embarrassed.
“We’d rather just begin, if it’s all the same to you,” the taller elder man stated. “I’m Agent Stewart, and this is Agent McTavish. We should begin with your manifesto. Have you received anything unusual lately?”
“You mean unusual for a convention center?” Henry asked sarcastically. Seeing his remark bore no reaction from the men, he digressed, clearing his throat nervously. Suddenly a light went on in his head. “You know what? I DID receive something a bit odd.” He led the men to the back corner where a large 55-gallon drum sat, talk radio blaring from a boom box sitting atop it.
From the speakers the familiar voice of Rush Limbaugh rants about gays and their pro-choice stance. “…let’s say we discover the gene that says the kid’s gonna be gay. How many parents, if they knew before the kid was gonna be born, [that he] was gonna be gay, they would take the pregnancy to term? Well, you don’t know but let’s say half of them said, ‘Oh, no, I don’t wanna do that to a kid.’ Then the gay community finds out about this. The gay community would do the fastest 180 and become pro-life faster than anybody you’ve ever seen. … They’d be so against abortion if it was discovered that you could abort what you knew were gonna be gay babies.”
Blorp!
The bubbling sound caught the men off guard. Henry reached over and turned down the sound on the stereo. The bubbling inside the drum seemed to stop just as rapidly. Both dogs sniffed at the base of the drum and looked at their handlers, their body language giving away their assessment. “Open it,” barked the younger man. “And get us the bill of lading. Now.”
(Back to the present situation)
“I have an odd question,” started Dan. “Where the HELL is the Secret Service?” He looks directly at Ted Nugent and smiles as well as the situation will allow such levity. “Did you buy them all escorts again, Teddy?” Arnold and Ted both looked at Dan with mild amusement, Rush and Bill, not so much. Dan’s smile quickly faded as he was shot back to their dire predicament by a jolting thud against the door they had managed to slam shut, lopping off one of the creature’s hands in the process. “I think we should find a place to relocate, boys. That thing isn’t very happy with us.”
“Oh, ya think, Captain Obvious?” sniped Bill O’Reilly.
Dan stared daggers into the man. “Oh. Welcome back to the human race. Wait. Never mind. I forgot who I’m talking to. You don’t qualify. Neither does that fat fuck over there,” he said, indicating Rush.
“Watch your tongue, princess…” Rush blasted back, pointing a finger at Dan.
Dan stomped over to Rush, his lips peeled back in a grimace of anger. “Or WHAT, you dickless, spineless, hate-mongering, planetoid of human flesh?”
Ted stepped between the two men, separating them forcibly. “Easy guys.”
“Gentlemen! This way!” Each of the men spun on the voice as a small stampede of suited men and uniformed policemen rushed the hallway, around a dozen in all by Dan’s count. One set took aim at the door Bob the security guard initially entered, while most of the suited men and one officer placed themselves between the gathered celebrities and the door the monster was behind. The voice belonged to the elder agent. “It’s time to leave.”
“It’s about time,” stated the still-snarky Bill. “I’m too important to die at a fag convention.” He sneered at Dan, hoping for a reaction.
Another more determined thud came from the other side of the door, matched by a smaller, weaker one at the door the other group had their sights set on. “We really need to go. NOW!” Just as the agent grasped Arnold by the shoulder to lead him away, a bloody stump splintered through the door, leaving a hole. The creature let out an enraged wail of pain as it withdrew its arm.
“What the HELL…” The young policeman cautiously approached the new orifice in the door.
“I wouldn’t do that,” pleaded Dan.
The officer peered through the hole and was met with the monster’s own glaring gaze, his lips parted in rage. “HOLY SHIT!” The officer stumbled backward, landing on his butt and his hat fleeing his head to the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?” He skittered back a couple of steps before regaining his footing. As he stood, his hat got kicked towards the door. He bent over, back turned to the door. “I want to know what’s going on right now!”
Dan held out a hand to the officer. “What’s going on is you need to get the fuck away from that door and I mean right now. Don’t you know what a glory hole…”
Dan’s words died in his mouth as the rapid tearing of cloth was followed by a stunned and somehow vacant look on the officer’s face. He was quickly yanked back to the door by an unseen force. His throat suddenly grew impossibly thick, blood spraying out of his mouth. “Help me,” his pleading voice gurgled. Without warning, his entire head evaporated with a boom, grey matter, a white substance, and his life essence painting the room. Where his skull once was, the head of the cannon now appeared, then disappeared, and reappeared again, before finally withdrawing back through the opening.
The beast laughed heartily and gave the door one last good kick, sending it across the narrow hallway and cutting another agent in half. Stepping triumphantly through the opened portal, it grinned at its prey. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice – can’t get fooled again.”
Bullets began flying from the other agents’ guns as the more experienced one gathered the celebrities and led them away. Each round seemed to do nothing to the creature, ricocheting off of it as if it were impervious. Just as the men retreated past the second door, it flew open. Behind it was the newly turned security guard, his manhood exposed to the world and growing larger by the second. “Well. Isn’t THIS exciting?” The men guarding that door opened fire as well, with the same effect. The sound of a large weapon loading itself emanated from the second creature. A flash of white accompanied a deafening crack, eliminating one of the uniformed officers. Some of the spatter landed on a female officer and sizzled in placed. Even in his haste, Dan noticed it didn’t seem to affect her apart from the gross-out factor. The look didn’t last long as the smaller man-thing sent her flying against an adjacent wall, her head cracking open from the impact. She died with a purple mushroom-shaped bruise on her face and her brains leaking out behind her.
The agent hastily led the men to the warehouse, while behind them, people were screaming and useless shots were fired. Dan looked back, feeling helpless for those who were sacrificing themselves as the distance between the fleeing party and the front line increased. An escape plan had been put into place for emergencies, even ones they had no hope of planning for. They reached the dock doors, but there were no cars in their appointed positions. “Fuck.” From the look on his face, Dan could tell that this wasn’t part of the plan.
TO BE CONTINUED…
“Well. I can honestly say that this week’s booking caught me a bit off guard. At least it did when I initially learned of it. Now, I’m just flat-out excited and determined to not let it go to waste. I’ll be the first to admit that this is my first attempt at a shot at a World Title. SO take note, all who are in the qualification matches. I’m sure once I make it past my competition and have a sealed spot in the Chamber at Hardcore Hell, each and every one of you will try to rail me on it ad nauseum.
“Of course, that’s assuming I get past my opponent this week. But let’s face it… It’s Mic Ferrari. If there’s a horse that’s any darker than me in this series of matches, it would be him. The fact is, Mic, we BOTH are the underdog in this. We have both been on a tear lately, each of us sending our competition packing each and every week. The thing that sets us apart from each other is the fact that I have talent. I have to say that it’s about damned time management finally recognizes mine.
“Let me guess what you’re going to try and come at me with since you are an even bigger procrastinator than I am. You’ll probably say something about my inability to win the Light Heavyweight Championship. Earth to Mic… I DIDN’T WANT THE FUCKING THING! The only thing keeping me in that division at all is the fact that I refuse to gain five more pounds to be disqualified from the rankings. And don’t think for one second that I didn’t take it to Kyle Shane just because of that. I’m a competitor, after all. He won, but it wasn’t without help. Even your gorgeous ass can’t deny that. Even if you think of it as a ‘convenient excuse’ it’s the cold hard truth. Of the last seven opponents I’ve had, he’s the ONLY one I lost to. Who have you faced lately that have been worth a damn? Sure you got the Television Title back from Kenny Radical, but was his heart really in it? In fact were any of your recent opponents even putting forth any kind of effort? When you weigh them all out, I have actually earned my place here in this match. The only thing noteworthy you’ve done in the last month is regain that little trinket. Congratulations on that, Sweetie. You’ve gotten your gold plated turd back.
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that you brought up our past in the other fed, saying that I had never beaten you. Really? This is the now, Mic. You had your shot at glory, and now look how far you’ve fallen. You held the highest belt this company has to offer, yet here you are shining its lowest one like it’s a sports car. Are you kidding me? Flashing that thing around couldn’t get you laid in a morgue.
“So come at me with your ‘better than you’ bullshit. I’ll shove it down your gullet with my foot while happily singing showtunes in the process. In order to even get a chance at the World Title, you need to be real. Me? I’m as real as it gets. You? Every part of you is as fake as the color of your hair. You try and exude confidence, yet it comes out as arrogance. You’re hiding, Mic. Hiding your fears. Fears that you will finally be exposed for the fraud you really are. Your elaborate lifestyle is nothing more than a well-funded sham. Inside, you’re as hollow as a chocolate bunny at Easter. The whole entire world knows it’s all a cover, nothing more than a layer to protect you from the cruelties this world doles out in abundance.
“In a way, I’m actually glad you are like this, Mic. You are exactly like Vega$ in nearly every way I can imagine. That’s the good news. The bad news is just the thought of it drives me to want to push your flawless face in even more. I won’t be getting into the ring with you; I’ll be entering it against HIM. That makes this already hungry lioness even more famished. I hope your life insurance is paid in full. I plan on tearing you a few new holes so that everyone can see that I’m taking this seriously. When I do, Vega$ will see that he’s got his eyes on the wrong ball. If he makes it past Paul Frost, he’ll regret that mistake.
“Vega$, Aidan Collins, Tomoko Hanahara, Chitown Hustler F, Raziel, Dante Anglais, Bigg Rigg, or Paul Frost, and even Star… It doesn’t matter to me which of them I face once I get past you, Mic. I’ll go into the Elimination Chamber knowing that once the dust settles, the entire world will gasp with surprise when yours truly holds his hand and his new belt up high. So let them discount me. Let them shrug me off. Just like you, their arrogance will be the weapon I use against them.
“You’ve had your chance, Mic. I haven’t. You have a belt. I don’t. That doesn’t make me unqualified to be in this match. That makes me the one who wants this more. If you lose, you still have gold around your waist. If I lose, all I’ll get is a handful of ‘told you so’s’ by the very same people who would try and place me beneath them. I’m not having it. No more, Mic. Not from you. Not from the rest of the doubters. My time is now and I will take full rein of it in Birmingham. Destiny is calling for one of us, Mic. I will be the one who answers. There is no other acceptable outcome for me.
“The only joke bigger than you is the one whose place you took to be in this match; Hunter Ryan. Even though you lucked your way into this tournament, Hunter will have something from me that you will never have; my respect. True he may have flaked out a bit here lately, and all of the war wounds he’s obtained over the years are starting to play catch up, but he at least has a legitimate reason for his blundering. You can whitewash all of your faults all you want. In the end, they will still bleed through and I will stand over you. That’s not just the way it MIGHT be. That’s the way it’s GOING to be.
“On the flip side, I’ve exposed all of my weaknesses for the world to see, because I know doing that shows that I recognize them and can do something about them. I don’t live my life in denial, Mic. I never have. Can you say the same thing? I don’t think so. That is your biggest downfall. Arrogance doesn’t make a champion. B-T-W… The rest of you contenders should pay attention to this as well. Confidence makes a true champion. Believing in yourself means not only accepting your weaknesses, but moving forward to turn them into strengths. Parading around the hallways of the arenas declaring yourselves the “Greatest Of All Time” doesn’t make you any more believable than the starry-eyed curtain jerker next to you in the hallway. Shouting to the heavens about your accomplishments in the past doesn’t lend you any credibility. It’s just you slapping your own back because you know no one else believes the hype enough to do it FOR you. People may ooh and ah about the gaggle of people with stories pasts they placed against each other to set up the next pay-per-view. In the end, it’s not your past that will win the match FOR you. It’s what you bring to the table NOW that gets the job done.
“Getting past this match isn’t a request for me; it’s a requirement. If that comes off as sounding desperate, then so be it. I’m not going to pretend you will be an easy opponent, Mic. You just won’t be nearly as difficult as any I had initially hoped for. Moving forward into the Elimination Chamber at Hardcore Hell, no matter who makes it in there with me, won’t be a ride at Candyland, either. BUT… I’m not about to let that intimidate me. Not this time. I have worked too hard and for too long to get here, and I’m not going to let some whiny little over rated bottle blonde beach bum from L.A. stop me from reaching my fullest potential. I’m going to do in the ring what I do on the runway. I’ll show people nothing short of my very best.
“So here’s the REAL talk. We’re here in one of the qualification matches for the Elimination Chamber. We’re walking in with the rest of the competition looking down their noses at us. I admit I’m doing the same to you right now, but I know what you’re like. You won’t waste a second thought doing the very same thing to me. You will try to insult me as if you could possibly come up with anything I’ve not heard before. You might even try to jade me by using my sexuality against me. In the end, it won’t matter. None of it will. I have the skills to be in this match, regardless of what people think. . They have their opinions and you have yours, Mic. As far as I’m concerned, opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one, they’re usually full of shit, and if you catch me in the wrong mood… Well… I don’t need to remind you what I do to assholes, do I? That’s not just the truth, Mic. That's FIERCE!"