A MATCH IS LIT. The light of the match illuminates its surroundings revealing a balding old man wearing a cooking apron displaying the corporate colors of McDonalds lighting a cigarette. His features are rough and a thin layer of sweat lines his brow as he exhales through his nostrils creating two plumes of second hand smoke.
Creepy McDonalds Dude
“Heh Heh... that stupid bitch.”
While reminiscing about persons unknown to us the aging minimum wage warrior flicks the match to the ground after its flame was extinguished with a quick flick of the wrist. Our view follows the match, its ember still glows as the last bit of fuel is consumed by fire and converted into heat energy. Its journey reaching its denouement the match lands on a damp patch of pavement. Although already in its late death throws the ember is extinguished prematurely with naught but a small sizzle and minute puff of smoke to herald its demise.
Creepy McDonalds Dude
“Eh?”
Creepy McDonalds Dude
“Customers... in THAT?”
Startled the man drops his cigarette without regard to whether it was lit or not and scurried for the door. Pulling through to the drive through window is a stretch limousine. Usually these things would never be able to make it through a drive through window due to the genius design many fast food restaurants use for their drive through lanes. [Some are so short and have sharp turns that anyone looking for fattening snacks at any hour of the day might be inclined to think they are actually on the death star trench run ready to fire some torpedoes and then go bang the shit out of princess Leah. While that last part is a whole lot cooler sounding than a Big Mac (with cheese)... it just isn’t going to happen, not even with that slave Leah outfit from Return of the Jedi. But anyways I’m getting off track...] The Limo can pull use this drive through simply due to the courteous fact that the drive through is just on one side of the restaurant; it pulls up to the big sign do-hicky thing where you order (whatever it’s called).
wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
With the power of automatic windows at the ready the driver reels the window down as he approaches the do-hicky, the driver is Matthew from the Placebo Youth. A voice greets him.
McDonalds Cashier
“Welcome to McDonalds would you like to try a combo meal?”
Our point of view switches to the limo’s interior. Next to Matthew is Rebecca another founding member of the Youth and preacher of the Omega Sin’s word to man.
Matthew
“I’ll have a... uh... I’ll have a Quarter Pounder with cheese, Fries... large Soda and...”
Matthew
“Rebecca?”
Rebecca
“Can I still get an Egg McMuffin?”
Matthew
“Its midnight!”
McDonalds Cashier
“We don’t serve those after noon ma’am”
Matthew takes a split second to stare back at the large McDonald’s drive through talking sign do-hicky thing dumbfounded. No doubt the sentence, “I just said that” running through his mind.
Creepy McDonalds Dude
“They order yet?”
Rebecca
“So what? I can get pancakes at a diner any time, how much more effort does it take to reheat the same mass produced shit at midnight than at 11:59am?”
Matthew
“I don’t know...”
McDonalds Cashier
“Hey Lou, your wife’s callin again!”
Creepy McDonalds Dude
“So what? I kicked that bitch and her son out, threw their junk in the yard!”
McDonalds Cashier
“WHAT?”
Creepy McDonalds Dude
“Yeah man, this hooker... fuck. It was awesome. I don’t need HER anymore!”
Wide eyed and with too much information runnning through their minds Matthew and Erica listen do-eyed to the conversation being transmitted through the speaker at the drive through.
Rebecca
“SNACK WRAP! I’LL JUST HAVE A SNACK WRAP!”
“It’s just pathetic!”
A voice interjects and the camera angle quickly repositions itself to the rear of the Limo. Here we observe Doc Placebo, dressed in black slacks, dress shoes, white button down shirt, and the NEW Killer Championship worn as a cummerbund. The Artisan of Agony is reclining on his side on top of a sofa in the Limo as would a Roman Patrician. Erica is sitting Indian style at the head of the sofa by Placebo; her ensemble includes a knee length shoulder less purple dress.
Erica
“Not this again.”
Doc Placebo
“It’s just pointless!”
Erica
“Yes yes...”
Doc Placebo
“The second I get an opponent I even THINK might have some kind of challenge and he goes and states that the match is not the foremost thing on his mind.”
Erica
“I know...”
Doc Placebo
“The Ultimate Heavyweight Championship? Way to throw out an attainable goal there...”
Erica
“Well he’s NOT going to get it.”
Doc Placebo
“Of course not! That’s the problem with this country. Instant gratification is everywhere. Got an itch? We got the cream! Championship belt which will look good with a suit? Would you like that with a Coke or Pepsi? I’m sorry we’re all out of Mr. Pibb.”
Erica
“No more Mr. Pibb huh? If he’s not focused on your title he’ll fail in the ring, I’m sure of it cross my heart, hope to die.”
The Andorran wrestler pauses for a moment running his fingers through Erica’s jet black hair. Follicles fall through his fingers like a waterfall as he pets his Minioness. She closes her eyes taking in the sensations.
Doc Placebo
“It’s just becoming monotonous. People have forgotten what ITs all about.”
Erica
“It?”
Doc Placebo
“It’s never been about the titles, it’s about how you got there. It’s clawing your way to the top and pulling yourself up off of the canvas after your bones have shattered and your blood has been spilled and coming back at it again for the next round!”
Erica
“Some people must still...”
Doc Placebo
“Maybe... but perhaps it’s just a matter of beating all of these people down till they realize... one little fact.”
Erica
“Just one?”
Doc Placebo
“Well... maybe a few more than one... just the one that stands out right now is... if I can beat you, why would the company EVER give you a shot at that Ultimate Championship?”
Doc Placebo
“Cobra, I know you can hear me, I want you to focus on the match.... FOCUS! Be ready. Ok? Good, see you at Bloodzone...”
Turning his attention away from a cameraman unseen by our eyes the once diplomat from Andorra to the United States brings his full attention to Erica. Taking a single grape from a small bowl at the end of his sofa the reclined Omega Sin casually begins feeding his purple dressed beauty the fruit piece by piece. With an unexpected vigor she bites the first grape in half nearly catching a bit of the Doctor’s fingers with it as incisors slash into helpless grape. No longer paying their audience any heed and completely wrapped up in their own amusements the scene begins to fade as the limo departs on its way to Bloodzone.
|