Jingle Bells and the hero who smells.
Jan 11, 2021 21:27:28 GMT -5
ARP, Roger Wright, and 4 more like this
Post by coolrifletk47 on Jan 11, 2021 21:27:28 GMT -5
No, no Sweet P, I can’t just CALM DOWN. Those motherhuggers went out and kidnapped MY FRIEND, OUR FRIEND!!!! WE DON’T KNOW WHERE HE IS, WE DON’T KNOW IF HE IS OKAY! YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I DO BRANDON MOORE IS A GOT DAMNED LUNATIC!!!! NO TELLING WHAT THAT GIANT BACK OF GUMMI DICKS WILL DO TO CONVINCE PEOPLE HE IS ACTUALLY RELEVANT!!!!
I don’t know what they want P, but I am gonna call OPW management up, I am gonna get Stylez or one of his grocery go getters on the phone and tell them I will forfeit the SEXCORE title. That I will deliver it to Brandon Moore’s front door. Well probably not door because it isn’t like that piece of trash has an actual house. But I will take it right to his alley blanket fort with the cozy view of the back entrance to the Jizz Mop Express Adult Book Store and I will tell him he wins. As long as he just sends GOAT back to us safe.
I can’t believe I let it get this far man, I am so got damned selfish. I had so many high ideals. What I was gonna do with this title, how I was gonna lead this revolution and make t his title mean something more than being the stupid bathroom break title or the blood and guts championship. It was gonna be about winning at all cost. About finding a way to win using what you have whether it was a hand of stone, educated feet, or an oddly specific knowledge of arena furniture storage. And when ol’ numbnuts Moore showed back up chasing clout like a more douchey version of Wil E. Coyote I didn’t think nothing of it.
Because deep down I knew that he knew what I knew. Physically he doesn’t match up well to me. He isn’t a better fighter than me and he isn’t a better wrestler. Sure he is better at putting together SAW movie inspired erector sets and House of a thousand Dickheads deathmatches but that isn’t anything three special needs apes with crippling Epilepsy couldn’t do in their spare time.
Brandon Moore is a half note hack with suicidal tendencies but apparently also a problem with commitment. He believes that if he bleeds buckets of blood that people might take him seriously. Now I don’t know if that is because Mom didn’t hug him or dad hugged him too much. Maybe that one time at band camp somebody shoved a flute in his man Vag, I don’t know but he is a whiny, unstable, no talent Twatopus of a human. He is hot street trash on two legs and not even the cool kind that have a need overdose story or a bad tattoo of an ex who had reassignment surgery.
And instead of sacking up a like somebody born with a pair and coming and seeing me face to face so I can show him that I am, have been, and always will be leaps and bounds better than he could ever dream, he pulled this bullshit. This dimestore, Extremely Crappy Wrestler knew full and well about the box of ass whooping I was gonna open up on him and he took the first road to Punkassbitchistan, where he is the President, Vice President, and Cockmander in Queef.
He just knew in the bottom of that putrid rat’s nest he calls a soul that after the pay per view he would have to walk back to the rest of his little Get a long gang and tell them that he failed. That Tommy Kain busted his ass like it was the third of the month and the rent was all the way late. I knew I could beat him physically, I knew I could beat him mentally, and I knew that match would be over long before the bell even rang.
But I think I underestimated him. I didn’t give him enough credit for how much of an unbelievably heinous wad of Twat waffle syrup he could be. He actually went and kidnapped someone to try to get the advantage in a wrestling contest. Like some kind of late 70’s Bond Villain or any of the bad guys from Captain Planet kind of bulljive is that? But here we are.
Thomas, you may be overreacting here, there may be another way to….
No Pierre, Moore and the rest of Ford Festiva have our friend and he is in trouble. I am just going to give him what he wants and then maybe if it isn’t already too late they will just give GOAT back. I can’t risk it. If something happens to him P, then that’s on me…..
And I am not sure I can live with that.
Thomas, I need you to listen to me. Here, drink this, shut up, and let me explain a few things to you.
(The little Dubai War Machine pops the top on a bottle of Zima and throws in the obligatory, cherry Jolly Rancher. TK takes a seat on the back bumper of the WANNABANGOHHHH, his chest heaving in and out at an almost hyperventilating pace, but he reluctantly takes the Zima bottle and drinks some down. The liquid refreshment seems to have an almost instant calming effect, probably due to the enhanced taste of Jolly Rancher infused goodness, but the world may never know.)
Thomas, I know you are upset, I know you are worried, but I want you to pay very close attention to the information I am about to give you. There are things about GOAT and myself that you do not know and also things about us that I would not expect you to understand.
I knew it, I got damned knew it, you two have been a damn couple this whole time. Why didn’t you just say something. It is 2021 P, you love who you love. You are both adults, at least I think GOAT is an adult in GOAT years, I know he never gets carded. But damn it P, isn’t that all the more reason for you to be freaking out right now? I mean…..
Thomas, THOMAS! (Pierre’s raised voice brings TK’s attention back fully. Kain had never heard the little fella raise his voice. Hell, for the first few years he knew him TK had thought Pierre was actually mute.)
GOAT and I are not romantically linked. That was not what I was trying to say.
I mean cool if you say you ain’t then you ain’t but I am just saying if you were I would be cool with…..
I AM SAYING WE ARE NOT BECAUSE WE ARE NOT!!!! WE HAVE NOT “BUMPED OUR UGLIES” OR “DOCKED OUR SUBMARINES” OR “TOOK ANY SUNDAY DRIVES DOWN ONE ANOTHER’S HERSHEY HIGHWAYS”, THERE HAS BEEN NO TUCKING AND OR SUCKING! NOW IF YOU COULD PLEASE SILENCE YOUR NOISE HOLE FOR A FEW MOMENTS!!!! (Pierre then slowly and calmly takes a few deep breaths and wipes a small accumulation of stress sweat from his brow) I have something important to share with you.
(Pierre calmly and meticulously pulls a laptop out of one of his various satchel/man bag/ man purses/ or murses that he owns. He takes time to set it up on the back of the WANNABANGOHHHH and waits somewhat patiently)
With all of our advancements in computer science and yet Microsoft cannot produce a system that does not need to update every seven minutes. (A few more moments pass by as Kain continues to work on opening his second ZIMA and routinely lose his train of thought)
P nut, do you think Superman would have to pay taxes? Like not Clark Kent but the actual son of Jor-el? I mean I bet the property taxes on that fortress of solitude are bananas.
(Pierre begins snapping his fingers to gain TK’s focus and points directly at the smaller laptop computer screen to a power point that appears to have been titled…..)
WECOME TO YOU ARE DOOM?
No Thomas, it clearly says….Welcome to….seriously, unbelievable, millions of dollars into our R and D departments, some of the finest minds from MIT and other institutions around the globe and basic grammar is still a problem. The title should be Welcome to your doom Thomas.
You see over ten years ago GOAT and myself began to devise a plan to take over the world. It is a multi-faceted, multi-level plan that has been meticulously designed to allow GOAT to control 98.4 percent of the Earth’s population.
98.4?
Yes, we never could deduce the best way to deal with the Cannibal Pigmy tribes in the Amazon and Malta, some of the Inuit clans in the Antarctic regions, and those New Jersey Pine Folk who still worship the Mothman. We seem to have everyone else accounted for.
So let me get this straight Pierre, if that is your real name. You are sitting here trying to tell me that you and GOAT are basically Pinky and the motherlovin BRAIN? Okay, I dig it, so which is which, who is the crazy smart one and who is the smart crazy one?
Thomas, I know this is hard for you to comprehend but we are not cartoon characters. This plan is real and the wheels have been set in motion for over a decade. And you, you are a piece of that puzzle. A very important piece. Haven’t you even begun to notice changes in yourself recently?
Changes in your body?
Pierre, I am forty-one years old, those noticeable changes happened like almost twenty years ago. Got some hair in weird spots, had to actually start using deodorant so I wouldn’t smell like Brandon Moore’s mom.
Thomas, I am not talking about puberty……Wait, almost twenty years, you didn’t reach physical adulthood until you were almost twenty?
Suck it P, I was a late bloomer, Mom said I was probably just holding back so that I could save up to explode all over the world.
Your mother said that?
Okay, no, but I am sure that is what she meant when she said that everyone is different.
Thomas, let us not digress, especially down this disturbing road. What I am trying to tell you is that GOAT and I have military forces, strike teams, chemical weaponry, and round the clock surveillance. We have at least three separate underground lairs. We have had surveillance on GOAT the entire time with some of our best men and women up until most recently but now strike teams are at the ready if we feel the situation had gotten unmanageable. So when I tell you I know that GOAT is fine it is because I actually KNOW for a fact that GOAT is just fine.
(TK looks up at Pierre with a strangely warm smile. Strangely warm because these are not the kind of moments familiar to a man like Tommy Kain. A moment where he really believes that someone actually cares about him. That they are willing to do whatever it takes to comfort him and to take care of him.)
Pierre, thanks man. I really do appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I know you know how important this title is to me. I know you know how much I wanted to walk into this pay per view extravaganza and kick Brandon Moore’s teeth so far down his throat he would have to ButtChug Listerine to clean his bloody gums. And I want you to know I appreciate it Brohemian Rhapsody, you are a good dude.
But this is the only way out of this that I can figure. I will hand this damn thing over and then we can go to the bar or something, because I am sure I will need more than one drink after….
(Suddenly, Pierre looks down at his smart watch. His eyes wide he looks at TK and cuts him off in the middle of his touching soliloquy, or was it a monologue, ahhhh either way.)
Thomas, I know where GOAT is, we can go get him right now.
P-Diddy, for real, it was cool but quit it man, we need to figure out where Moore is so…….
Thomas, LOOK!
(Pierre shoves the small, smart watch screen into Kain’s face, the picture, somewhat grainy appears to be some sort of shipping yard and standing right in the middle of the dock, chained to the rusted hull of an old freighter ship is none other than………..GOAT.)
Wait, is that?
Yes, I told you.
I don’t know how you did this P but we got to get over there.
I mean I just spent twenty minutes trying to tell you how, even had a power point put together and everything but…..
Pierre for real, get in the BANGOHHHHH
We GOAT to get a move on.
(In the amount of time it would take for a rescue preparation montage set to the tune of “Strike like lightning by Mr. Big from the 1990 Charlie Sheen classic, Navy Seals, TK and Pierre travel to the aforementioned loading dock.
When they arrive, it looks exactly like you think it would if you have seen any 90’s action movie. Shady characters all around, forklifts moving crates, a crane thingy with a giant container suspended in the air but for some reason just left in the most dangerous position you could actually leave a crate that was suspended in the air. It was a scene that would make an OSHA representative blush.)
He is in there P, I can feel it.
Well, that and you actually saw a picture of him there so your intuition may have had some assistance.
Well then buddy, it is time to kick the tires and tune the lyres.
I believe it is kick the tires and light the fires…
Well, that’s what I said, spin the spires and call John Cryer…..we got this.
Thomas, one thing before we go.
Yeah, what is it you little half pint of pain.
Could you have possibly chosen a more subtle outfit?
Barack Brobama, I don’t own any other all black clothing, not since my Emo phase. I mean Black Parade is still a great MCR album but those clothes get crazy hot in the day time. All that black soaks in the heat. Plus, I have had this outfit for five years and have never had a reason to wear it until now.
But Batman does not…..
Does not what Pierre, he is the hero we didn’t want but the hero we needed. He is a silent guardian, watchful protector, The Dark Knii……
I just assumed a costume would be more appropriate for a Halloween activity.
Sure, wear armor, a cape, and a damn cowl for Halloween Pierre? Then what in the hell would I do with my Cobra Commander outfit, wear it to Easter Dinn…..wait, that is a badass idea but we gotta stay focused.
Thing is apparently you were able to go to the Hudson Hawk section of Baby Gap and get an outfit but I was not. So instead, I chose the more functional and intimidating approach. These nickel and dimers won’t have a clue what hit em. I even grabbed a few smoke bombs.
So whattya say pal, let’s go get our………..other pal.
(Kain and Pierre make their way onto the dock and Pierre begins putting in that War King work. One by one, the workers, armed and unarmed are taken out one by one with the silence and stealth of a Tom Clancy hero. Mean while TK is having a difficult time getting his cape out from over his head and appeared to be practicing whispering in his Batman voice.)
Where is he?
Where is he?
I want you tell all your friends, I’m Batman.
(Suddenly Kain looks up and it appears the job has been done. Everyone besides Kain, Pierre, and one lonely guard are left standing, well the guard is conscious anyway, standing might be a bit of an overstatement. TK approaches the guard currently on his knees and drags him to his feet. The guard appears somewhat concussed and very frightened of Pierre but also about six foot eight in statue with a NFL linebacker build.
TK looks up at him and decides that this position does not appear to be providing the correct effect so he carefully puts the man back on his knees, clears his throat and begins)
WHERE IS HE (Think muffled and hard to understand like a Christian Bale batman with marbles in his mouth)
What?
WHERE IS HE….slap
I can’t understand you, and are you wearing a Batman suit?
I SAID WHERE IS THE GOAT?!!!
I have never owned a boat.
WHERE IS THE GOAT….slap, slap, punch
Son of a, why would I need to cross a moat?
(Suddenly, as TK draws his hand back yet again, Pierre grabs him by the wrist and rolls his eyes before stepping in front of the large, concussed, frightened)
Sir, please excuse my friend.
THE DARK KNIGHT CAN’T AFFORD THE LUXURY OF FRIENDS!!!!!
Wait, what did he say about Luxembourg, my family lives there, please don’t hurt them, I just took this job because I blew out my knee and Nightclub security is a door to nowhere. I am sorry….
Sir, listen, my friend here couldn’t find Luxembourg on a map
I’ll find you on a map.(mumbles)
Nevermind him, you are safe as long as you tell us exactly what we need to know. We are looking for a four-legged animal. Horns, possibly an uncontrollable erection. Looks a lot like a GOAT.
Oh, you must mean Georgie, he is chained up over there. Take him, he’s yours, just don’t kill me.
You listen to me street thug, if our friend is hurt, I will take a plane or a boat or whatever to Luxury town and I will be seeing your whole family, and I won’t be bringing cookies and a jello mold.
(TK and Pierre make their way to the GOAT they saw chained in the previously discussed picture. TK immediately rushes over and begins to unchain the animal when he stops……)
PIERRE……IT ISN’T HIM!
I am sorry Thomas what did you say?
WRONG GOAT!
Will you stop that infernal mumbling Thomas, I can’t understand you and this chain is quite rusted and those police sirens are making this whole event quite a bit more stressful than I had anticipated.
It isn’t GOAT, hell man the unit on this little guy is almost embarrassing. It isn’t a kickstand, it is hardly a thimble. GOD DAMNIT, WELL YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!
I may have received some bad intelligence and we should go home and reform our plan.
Fuck no P, we just have to go to every shipyard in the city, take out all the goons or guys who happened to be working an honest third shift job until we find our friend. And they will chase us Pierre, they will hunt us because we can take it. We are not heroes, we are silent guardians, we are watchful….
Wait, I almost forgot to cover our escape.
I don’t think that is necessa…..
(TK throws down two vials and nothing seems to be happening.)
Weird, you would think smoke bombs would be ummmm, smokier. And definitely smell less like zombie farts. I mean yikes, Pierre, did you have an accident? Did I have an accident? It is so hard to tell in this armor, I have been roasting balls all night.
Oh wait, I know, I must have grabbed the stink bombs instead of the smoke bombs, false alarm, at least I hope, I still can’t tell about these pants.
Thomas, it is fine, get in the car, this may prove to be a longer night than I ever could have imagined.
Okay but just so you know, thank you again for trying to make me feel better with that wild story about you and GOAT and the ripped off Frisky Dingo Storyline. I definitely needed a distraction. And maybe you are right. Maybe all ain’t lost. Maybe I walk into Sex and Guns and Fire Trucks or whatever the hell Johnny’s pay per view is called and I bust Brandon up six ways to Sunday to show him that we mean business. That if the beating I give him at the PPV is that bad, it will be a whole barrel load worse if we find out he put hurt one hair on GOAT’s little head.
Brandon Moore needs to look down deep and then understand that playtime is far past over.
When he climbs into that ring that cold chill he feels won’t be a New Orleans draft or the result of some VooDoo potion. Instead it is the fact that the clock on his jacked up Cinderella story has finally struck Twelve and I am gonna turn his bitch ass back into a big, bloody, pile of pumpkin pieces.
(Soon as the screen fades a news report flashes across our television screens.)
Good evening, this is Divinity Merloux reporting for live action evening news. Mario Calzone of the Calzone crime family was apprehended this evening after an anonymous tip was made about possible criminal activity at a local shipping dock. Witnesses on the scene reported hearing a loud crash and what was described by one witness as a smell comparable to hot “Yak’s milk strained through a broken toilet”
When police arrived on scene they found Calzone and other lieutenants of the Calzone crime family unconscious and put in some very suggestive sexual positions. A local police spokesperson stated that;
“We don’t know what happened here and we don’t know why it smells like what would happen if you mixed homeless guy puke with spoiled remoulade but knowing that we have finally apprehended Calzone, some potential nasal trauma is well worth it.”
One of the men who had been apprehended was heard to be screaming in terror as he was thrown into the back of a squad car. Witnesses reported that the man kept insisting that he had been assaulted by a tiny ninja and that Batman was going to visit his family in Luxembourg. He was taken to the local hospital for an evaluation.
One thing this reported knows is that the streets are a little bit safer tonight and we may owe a debt of gratitude to a tiny Ninja and a Batman who does in fact Smell.
I am Divinity Merloux for live action news.
I don’t know what they want P, but I am gonna call OPW management up, I am gonna get Stylez or one of his grocery go getters on the phone and tell them I will forfeit the SEXCORE title. That I will deliver it to Brandon Moore’s front door. Well probably not door because it isn’t like that piece of trash has an actual house. But I will take it right to his alley blanket fort with the cozy view of the back entrance to the Jizz Mop Express Adult Book Store and I will tell him he wins. As long as he just sends GOAT back to us safe.
I can’t believe I let it get this far man, I am so got damned selfish. I had so many high ideals. What I was gonna do with this title, how I was gonna lead this revolution and make t his title mean something more than being the stupid bathroom break title or the blood and guts championship. It was gonna be about winning at all cost. About finding a way to win using what you have whether it was a hand of stone, educated feet, or an oddly specific knowledge of arena furniture storage. And when ol’ numbnuts Moore showed back up chasing clout like a more douchey version of Wil E. Coyote I didn’t think nothing of it.
Because deep down I knew that he knew what I knew. Physically he doesn’t match up well to me. He isn’t a better fighter than me and he isn’t a better wrestler. Sure he is better at putting together SAW movie inspired erector sets and House of a thousand Dickheads deathmatches but that isn’t anything three special needs apes with crippling Epilepsy couldn’t do in their spare time.
Brandon Moore is a half note hack with suicidal tendencies but apparently also a problem with commitment. He believes that if he bleeds buckets of blood that people might take him seriously. Now I don’t know if that is because Mom didn’t hug him or dad hugged him too much. Maybe that one time at band camp somebody shoved a flute in his man Vag, I don’t know but he is a whiny, unstable, no talent Twatopus of a human. He is hot street trash on two legs and not even the cool kind that have a need overdose story or a bad tattoo of an ex who had reassignment surgery.
And instead of sacking up a like somebody born with a pair and coming and seeing me face to face so I can show him that I am, have been, and always will be leaps and bounds better than he could ever dream, he pulled this bullshit. This dimestore, Extremely Crappy Wrestler knew full and well about the box of ass whooping I was gonna open up on him and he took the first road to Punkassbitchistan, where he is the President, Vice President, and Cockmander in Queef.
He just knew in the bottom of that putrid rat’s nest he calls a soul that after the pay per view he would have to walk back to the rest of his little Get a long gang and tell them that he failed. That Tommy Kain busted his ass like it was the third of the month and the rent was all the way late. I knew I could beat him physically, I knew I could beat him mentally, and I knew that match would be over long before the bell even rang.
But I think I underestimated him. I didn’t give him enough credit for how much of an unbelievably heinous wad of Twat waffle syrup he could be. He actually went and kidnapped someone to try to get the advantage in a wrestling contest. Like some kind of late 70’s Bond Villain or any of the bad guys from Captain Planet kind of bulljive is that? But here we are.
Thomas, you may be overreacting here, there may be another way to….
No Pierre, Moore and the rest of Ford Festiva have our friend and he is in trouble. I am just going to give him what he wants and then maybe if it isn’t already too late they will just give GOAT back. I can’t risk it. If something happens to him P, then that’s on me…..
And I am not sure I can live with that.
Thomas, I need you to listen to me. Here, drink this, shut up, and let me explain a few things to you.
(The little Dubai War Machine pops the top on a bottle of Zima and throws in the obligatory, cherry Jolly Rancher. TK takes a seat on the back bumper of the WANNABANGOHHHH, his chest heaving in and out at an almost hyperventilating pace, but he reluctantly takes the Zima bottle and drinks some down. The liquid refreshment seems to have an almost instant calming effect, probably due to the enhanced taste of Jolly Rancher infused goodness, but the world may never know.)
Thomas, I know you are upset, I know you are worried, but I want you to pay very close attention to the information I am about to give you. There are things about GOAT and myself that you do not know and also things about us that I would not expect you to understand.
I knew it, I got damned knew it, you two have been a damn couple this whole time. Why didn’t you just say something. It is 2021 P, you love who you love. You are both adults, at least I think GOAT is an adult in GOAT years, I know he never gets carded. But damn it P, isn’t that all the more reason for you to be freaking out right now? I mean…..
Thomas, THOMAS! (Pierre’s raised voice brings TK’s attention back fully. Kain had never heard the little fella raise his voice. Hell, for the first few years he knew him TK had thought Pierre was actually mute.)
GOAT and I are not romantically linked. That was not what I was trying to say.
I mean cool if you say you ain’t then you ain’t but I am just saying if you were I would be cool with…..
I AM SAYING WE ARE NOT BECAUSE WE ARE NOT!!!! WE HAVE NOT “BUMPED OUR UGLIES” OR “DOCKED OUR SUBMARINES” OR “TOOK ANY SUNDAY DRIVES DOWN ONE ANOTHER’S HERSHEY HIGHWAYS”, THERE HAS BEEN NO TUCKING AND OR SUCKING! NOW IF YOU COULD PLEASE SILENCE YOUR NOISE HOLE FOR A FEW MOMENTS!!!! (Pierre then slowly and calmly takes a few deep breaths and wipes a small accumulation of stress sweat from his brow) I have something important to share with you.
(Pierre calmly and meticulously pulls a laptop out of one of his various satchel/man bag/ man purses/ or murses that he owns. He takes time to set it up on the back of the WANNABANGOHHHH and waits somewhat patiently)
With all of our advancements in computer science and yet Microsoft cannot produce a system that does not need to update every seven minutes. (A few more moments pass by as Kain continues to work on opening his second ZIMA and routinely lose his train of thought)
P nut, do you think Superman would have to pay taxes? Like not Clark Kent but the actual son of Jor-el? I mean I bet the property taxes on that fortress of solitude are bananas.
(Pierre begins snapping his fingers to gain TK’s focus and points directly at the smaller laptop computer screen to a power point that appears to have been titled…..)
WECOME TO YOU ARE DOOM?
No Thomas, it clearly says….Welcome to….seriously, unbelievable, millions of dollars into our R and D departments, some of the finest minds from MIT and other institutions around the globe and basic grammar is still a problem. The title should be Welcome to your doom Thomas.
You see over ten years ago GOAT and myself began to devise a plan to take over the world. It is a multi-faceted, multi-level plan that has been meticulously designed to allow GOAT to control 98.4 percent of the Earth’s population.
98.4?
Yes, we never could deduce the best way to deal with the Cannibal Pigmy tribes in the Amazon and Malta, some of the Inuit clans in the Antarctic regions, and those New Jersey Pine Folk who still worship the Mothman. We seem to have everyone else accounted for.
So let me get this straight Pierre, if that is your real name. You are sitting here trying to tell me that you and GOAT are basically Pinky and the motherlovin BRAIN? Okay, I dig it, so which is which, who is the crazy smart one and who is the smart crazy one?
Thomas, I know this is hard for you to comprehend but we are not cartoon characters. This plan is real and the wheels have been set in motion for over a decade. And you, you are a piece of that puzzle. A very important piece. Haven’t you even begun to notice changes in yourself recently?
Changes in your body?
Pierre, I am forty-one years old, those noticeable changes happened like almost twenty years ago. Got some hair in weird spots, had to actually start using deodorant so I wouldn’t smell like Brandon Moore’s mom.
Thomas, I am not talking about puberty……Wait, almost twenty years, you didn’t reach physical adulthood until you were almost twenty?
Suck it P, I was a late bloomer, Mom said I was probably just holding back so that I could save up to explode all over the world.
Your mother said that?
Okay, no, but I am sure that is what she meant when she said that everyone is different.
Thomas, let us not digress, especially down this disturbing road. What I am trying to tell you is that GOAT and I have military forces, strike teams, chemical weaponry, and round the clock surveillance. We have at least three separate underground lairs. We have had surveillance on GOAT the entire time with some of our best men and women up until most recently but now strike teams are at the ready if we feel the situation had gotten unmanageable. So when I tell you I know that GOAT is fine it is because I actually KNOW for a fact that GOAT is just fine.
(TK looks up at Pierre with a strangely warm smile. Strangely warm because these are not the kind of moments familiar to a man like Tommy Kain. A moment where he really believes that someone actually cares about him. That they are willing to do whatever it takes to comfort him and to take care of him.)
Pierre, thanks man. I really do appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I know you know how important this title is to me. I know you know how much I wanted to walk into this pay per view extravaganza and kick Brandon Moore’s teeth so far down his throat he would have to ButtChug Listerine to clean his bloody gums. And I want you to know I appreciate it Brohemian Rhapsody, you are a good dude.
But this is the only way out of this that I can figure. I will hand this damn thing over and then we can go to the bar or something, because I am sure I will need more than one drink after….
(Suddenly, Pierre looks down at his smart watch. His eyes wide he looks at TK and cuts him off in the middle of his touching soliloquy, or was it a monologue, ahhhh either way.)
Thomas, I know where GOAT is, we can go get him right now.
P-Diddy, for real, it was cool but quit it man, we need to figure out where Moore is so…….
Thomas, LOOK!
(Pierre shoves the small, smart watch screen into Kain’s face, the picture, somewhat grainy appears to be some sort of shipping yard and standing right in the middle of the dock, chained to the rusted hull of an old freighter ship is none other than………..GOAT.)
Wait, is that?
Yes, I told you.
I don’t know how you did this P but we got to get over there.
I mean I just spent twenty minutes trying to tell you how, even had a power point put together and everything but…..
Pierre for real, get in the BANGOHHHHH
We GOAT to get a move on.
(In the amount of time it would take for a rescue preparation montage set to the tune of “Strike like lightning by Mr. Big from the 1990 Charlie Sheen classic, Navy Seals, TK and Pierre travel to the aforementioned loading dock.
When they arrive, it looks exactly like you think it would if you have seen any 90’s action movie. Shady characters all around, forklifts moving crates, a crane thingy with a giant container suspended in the air but for some reason just left in the most dangerous position you could actually leave a crate that was suspended in the air. It was a scene that would make an OSHA representative blush.)
He is in there P, I can feel it.
Well, that and you actually saw a picture of him there so your intuition may have had some assistance.
Well then buddy, it is time to kick the tires and tune the lyres.
I believe it is kick the tires and light the fires…
Well, that’s what I said, spin the spires and call John Cryer…..we got this.
Thomas, one thing before we go.
Yeah, what is it you little half pint of pain.
Could you have possibly chosen a more subtle outfit?
Barack Brobama, I don’t own any other all black clothing, not since my Emo phase. I mean Black Parade is still a great MCR album but those clothes get crazy hot in the day time. All that black soaks in the heat. Plus, I have had this outfit for five years and have never had a reason to wear it until now.
But Batman does not…..
Does not what Pierre, he is the hero we didn’t want but the hero we needed. He is a silent guardian, watchful protector, The Dark Knii……
I just assumed a costume would be more appropriate for a Halloween activity.
Sure, wear armor, a cape, and a damn cowl for Halloween Pierre? Then what in the hell would I do with my Cobra Commander outfit, wear it to Easter Dinn…..wait, that is a badass idea but we gotta stay focused.
Thing is apparently you were able to go to the Hudson Hawk section of Baby Gap and get an outfit but I was not. So instead, I chose the more functional and intimidating approach. These nickel and dimers won’t have a clue what hit em. I even grabbed a few smoke bombs.
So whattya say pal, let’s go get our………..other pal.
(Kain and Pierre make their way onto the dock and Pierre begins putting in that War King work. One by one, the workers, armed and unarmed are taken out one by one with the silence and stealth of a Tom Clancy hero. Mean while TK is having a difficult time getting his cape out from over his head and appeared to be practicing whispering in his Batman voice.)
Where is he?
Where is he?
I want you tell all your friends, I’m Batman.
(Suddenly Kain looks up and it appears the job has been done. Everyone besides Kain, Pierre, and one lonely guard are left standing, well the guard is conscious anyway, standing might be a bit of an overstatement. TK approaches the guard currently on his knees and drags him to his feet. The guard appears somewhat concussed and very frightened of Pierre but also about six foot eight in statue with a NFL linebacker build.
TK looks up at him and decides that this position does not appear to be providing the correct effect so he carefully puts the man back on his knees, clears his throat and begins)
WHERE IS HE (Think muffled and hard to understand like a Christian Bale batman with marbles in his mouth)
What?
WHERE IS HE….slap
I can’t understand you, and are you wearing a Batman suit?
I SAID WHERE IS THE GOAT?!!!
I have never owned a boat.
WHERE IS THE GOAT….slap, slap, punch
Son of a, why would I need to cross a moat?
(Suddenly, as TK draws his hand back yet again, Pierre grabs him by the wrist and rolls his eyes before stepping in front of the large, concussed, frightened)
Sir, please excuse my friend.
THE DARK KNIGHT CAN’T AFFORD THE LUXURY OF FRIENDS!!!!!
Wait, what did he say about Luxembourg, my family lives there, please don’t hurt them, I just took this job because I blew out my knee and Nightclub security is a door to nowhere. I am sorry….
Sir, listen, my friend here couldn’t find Luxembourg on a map
I’ll find you on a map.(mumbles)
Nevermind him, you are safe as long as you tell us exactly what we need to know. We are looking for a four-legged animal. Horns, possibly an uncontrollable erection. Looks a lot like a GOAT.
Oh, you must mean Georgie, he is chained up over there. Take him, he’s yours, just don’t kill me.
You listen to me street thug, if our friend is hurt, I will take a plane or a boat or whatever to Luxury town and I will be seeing your whole family, and I won’t be bringing cookies and a jello mold.
(TK and Pierre make their way to the GOAT they saw chained in the previously discussed picture. TK immediately rushes over and begins to unchain the animal when he stops……)
PIERRE……IT ISN’T HIM!
I am sorry Thomas what did you say?
WRONG GOAT!
Will you stop that infernal mumbling Thomas, I can’t understand you and this chain is quite rusted and those police sirens are making this whole event quite a bit more stressful than I had anticipated.
It isn’t GOAT, hell man the unit on this little guy is almost embarrassing. It isn’t a kickstand, it is hardly a thimble. GOD DAMNIT, WELL YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!
I may have received some bad intelligence and we should go home and reform our plan.
Fuck no P, we just have to go to every shipyard in the city, take out all the goons or guys who happened to be working an honest third shift job until we find our friend. And they will chase us Pierre, they will hunt us because we can take it. We are not heroes, we are silent guardians, we are watchful….
Wait, I almost forgot to cover our escape.
I don’t think that is necessa…..
(TK throws down two vials and nothing seems to be happening.)
Weird, you would think smoke bombs would be ummmm, smokier. And definitely smell less like zombie farts. I mean yikes, Pierre, did you have an accident? Did I have an accident? It is so hard to tell in this armor, I have been roasting balls all night.
Oh wait, I know, I must have grabbed the stink bombs instead of the smoke bombs, false alarm, at least I hope, I still can’t tell about these pants.
Thomas, it is fine, get in the car, this may prove to be a longer night than I ever could have imagined.
Okay but just so you know, thank you again for trying to make me feel better with that wild story about you and GOAT and the ripped off Frisky Dingo Storyline. I definitely needed a distraction. And maybe you are right. Maybe all ain’t lost. Maybe I walk into Sex and Guns and Fire Trucks or whatever the hell Johnny’s pay per view is called and I bust Brandon up six ways to Sunday to show him that we mean business. That if the beating I give him at the PPV is that bad, it will be a whole barrel load worse if we find out he put hurt one hair on GOAT’s little head.
Brandon Moore needs to look down deep and then understand that playtime is far past over.
When he climbs into that ring that cold chill he feels won’t be a New Orleans draft or the result of some VooDoo potion. Instead it is the fact that the clock on his jacked up Cinderella story has finally struck Twelve and I am gonna turn his bitch ass back into a big, bloody, pile of pumpkin pieces.
(Soon as the screen fades a news report flashes across our television screens.)
Good evening, this is Divinity Merloux reporting for live action evening news. Mario Calzone of the Calzone crime family was apprehended this evening after an anonymous tip was made about possible criminal activity at a local shipping dock. Witnesses on the scene reported hearing a loud crash and what was described by one witness as a smell comparable to hot “Yak’s milk strained through a broken toilet”
When police arrived on scene they found Calzone and other lieutenants of the Calzone crime family unconscious and put in some very suggestive sexual positions. A local police spokesperson stated that;
“We don’t know what happened here and we don’t know why it smells like what would happen if you mixed homeless guy puke with spoiled remoulade but knowing that we have finally apprehended Calzone, some potential nasal trauma is well worth it.”
One of the men who had been apprehended was heard to be screaming in terror as he was thrown into the back of a squad car. Witnesses reported that the man kept insisting that he had been assaulted by a tiny ninja and that Batman was going to visit his family in Luxembourg. He was taken to the local hospital for an evaluation.
One thing this reported knows is that the streets are a little bit safer tonight and we may owe a debt of gratitude to a tiny Ninja and a Batman who does in fact Smell.
I am Divinity Merloux for live action news.