Post by Mr.Ego on Apr 24, 2014 2:05:05 GMT -5
The scene opens to show ‘Vain’ Alan Wallace seated in the passenger seat of a vehicle. To his left, in the driver’s seat, is everyone’s favorite UGWC Head Athletic Trainer, Jason Ingalls. As they continue down the road in silence, Vain reaches back with his right hand and begins rubbing the back of his neck. With a perturbed look upon his face, he speaks.
”Vain’s gotta say, Jase…I originally thought this would be a good idea. Vain enjoys taking the scenic route from time to time, mingling with the locals every once in a while. Private jets are so impersonal sometimes. But…Vain’s neck is telling him that he made a mistake.”
Jase glances over at Vain for a second, but then reverts his gaze back to the road, because let’s face it…safety first, bitches.
“Well we have been on the road for the better part of a day, Alan. It’s to be expected.”
”Vain’s expectation was to have a comfortable trip. Apparently your fully loaded Land Rover had other ideas.”
“It’s a seat in a vehicle, Alan…it’s not your bed. Learn to adjust to your surroundings.”
”Know what does have my bed? My private jet.”
Jase rolls his eyes as they continue down the road, passing a sign that reads Winchester. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle. He tosses it to Vain.
“Chin up, buttercup. Take two of those, and your neck will be fine.”
”Now you know very well that ‘The Vain One’ prides himself on taking excellent care of his body, and that he carefully watches what he puts into his body. It’s a temple, you know.”
“Oh, am I ever aware of that, Alan. However, I am the Head Trainer for UGWC. I wouldn’t steer you wrong, bro. If you take two of those, your neck will be fine in a half an hour. And there are no other side effects.”
Vain listens to Jase finish speaking, and then focuses his gaze upon the bottle that he now holds in his hand. After a few moments, he looks over at Jase.
”No other side effects, you say?”
Jase takes his right hand off the wheel, and marks an ‘X’ over his chest.
“Cross my heart, and all of that jazz, Alan. I wouldn’t steer you wrong. We’re friends.”
Vain weighs the words…obviously fighting with himself over whether to take the pills or not. Eventually, he pops the cap off of the bottle.
”You’re right, Jase…you and ‘The Vain One’ are friends. So if you are saying that these are fine to take, I have no reason to doubt you.”
With that, Vain turns the bottle up and taps it, allowing two pills to fall into his hand. He tosses them into his mouth, and then reaches for his Deer Park water. Twisting off the cap, he takes a large gulp of water, and swallows the pills down. He places the cap back on the bottle of water, places the cap back on the bottle of pills, and then tosses the pill bottle back at Jase.
”Vain appreciates the kindness.”
“Why don’t you get yourself some rest, Alan. I still have a few hours of driving before we switch again. It’ll do you some good.”
”That is a damn good idea, Jase. Vain believes that he will take you up on that suggestion.”
As Vain begins to settle himself into the seat, the next road sign catches his eye. Inwood – 5 Miles. The wheels begin turning…
”Inwood…Inwood…why does Vain know that name, Jase?”
“Meh, it’s the hometown of that baldheaded jackass, Chaos.”
”I see. So that puts us either in, or near, West Virginia…correct? Where the state bird is the middle finger and the state mascot is the meth addict?”
“Sounds about right, Alan.”
”Joy. The single most wretched, redneckish, hick state in the entire nation. As big as this country is, and you couldn’t drive around this shit hole, Jason?”
“Blame the GPS, Alan. At any rate, speaking of rednecks…any thoughts on your match for ‘No Holds Barred’? It is a ‘Redneck Water Torture’ match, after all.”
”Vain is at a loss, Jase. These match sounds like it would be right up Klaus’ alley, what with the redneck aspect of such shenanigans. Quite frankly, the match sounds as if it is below the stature of someone like ‘Mr. Ego’. Klaus and his idiotic ruffian friends down in Louisiana? Sure, they’ll fit right in…but Vain? Fucking spare me…”
The use of the ‘F’ word by Vain catches Ingalls completely offguard. Wide-eyed, he looks over at Vain, who seems in and out of it, as his eyes get heavier and heavier.
“Get some sleep, bro.”
Vain mumbles something, but it is indecipherable. The camera focuses in on the face of ‘The Money Maker’, purely angelic in its beauty, and extremely peaceful…..
His heavy eyelids slowly open, and he looks around in confusion. The vehicle is stopped, and Jason Ingalls is nowhere to be seen. Yawning, he stretches as best he can, considering the cramped circumstances of currently being in a vehicle. Wiping at his eyes, he then opens the door, and steps out. The sunshine shines down upon him, warming him ever so slightly, only to have the cut of the wind make the warmth its bitch.
Fuck, it’s chilly.
He reaches down and zips up the jacket that he is wearing. It’s nothing spectacular, unless ‘spectacular in its simplicity’ is actually a thing. It’s your typical run-of-the-mill black sweat jacket, with the AC/DC logo on the front. His eyebrows rise as he notices what he is wearing.
Hells yeah. AC/DC rules!
He begins walking towards the store – the lettering on the front side of the store lists the name as ‘Food Dawg’ – and he notices that every few seconds, someone else seems to notice him. And once they notice him, they can’t seem to contain themselves.
For Christ’s sake, please get a grip. It’s embarrassing. Truly.
He continues his walk towards the store, amidst a sea of chants and cheers. As he nears the automatic doors that lead into the store, he turns and waves, causing another eruption of orgasmic glee to emanate from the crowd.
That’s right, fools. Bask in my greatness. You know you want to.
He enters the store, coming to a stop at the rack where they keep the store promo ads. A child of no more than ten sees him, and after a few moments of eye-fucking the greatest man that ever lived, the child’s lip begins to quiver, and he begins pointing.
For crying out loud, kid…just stop. It’s really not that big of a deal.
The kid almost begins to hyperventilate, as he begins to pull on the shirt sleep of his overweight mother, as she sheepishly attempts to figure out how to work the debit and credit card machine.
I don’t get it…it’s like they’ve never seen a professional wrestler before. This is why I hate kids. Little bastards…
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the little ten-year-old bastard begins to shriek. Not just any shriek, mind you…but a shriek that would cause Chris Hansen to cream his Dockers. Yeah…the reaction was that horrid.
Why fucking me…
As this little bastards octave reaches epic proportions, more and more people turn their attention to its source. And then, once they realize what – or rather, who – the child is looking at, they turn their attention to the front of the store.
”It’s a good thing I don’t give two shits about the people, else I might have a problem here.
He begins his swagger into the store, as cameras begin to flash, and people begin begging for autographs. A smile creeps across his face.
Who am I kidding…I eat this shit up!
As he stands there with a shit-eating grin on his face, one of the store associates makes her way over towards him. She stands maybe five-feet, three-inches tall, and has all the right curves, in all the right places. As she smiles up at him, he looks down at her, and notices her nametag.
Brittany, eh? I’ve known a few by that name over the years. Should I speak, or just smile? Fuck it, I don’t know this broad. I’ll just glare. Yeah, that’s it. Glare.”
The Customer Service Associate is talking to him, but what she is saying doesn’t seem to be registering. That might have something to do with the fact that he is completely staring at her chest, and not paying a damn bit of attention to anything else. At least not until he hears the magic words.
“…and that is why I absolutely adore you. Every time I see you step into that ring…it gives me chills in my happy place. You should visit my happy place sometime…”
Annndddd….YAHTZEE! I’d definitely visit your happy place, baby. I’m sure it’s totes amazing!”
It begins with Brittany, and then one of her coworkers chime in. A few customers hear, and they too begin prodding him to do it. At first he resists, but after another chant of his name goes up, he can’t help but to give in to temptation.
Hell, why not? It’ll make for a good spot on my show.
With that, he hops up onto register number 4, and someone from off camera throws him a microphone. And with that, he begins singing…
He completely owns the entire store. Mother fuckers to the left are singing along, while mother fuckers to the right are chanting his name. He is completely owning this shit. And then it happens.
Right there, during his performance…
In front of God and everyone…
The panties begin flying.
It begins with the panties of the hot little Customer Service Assistant, Brittany.
It continues with the panties of the slender little blonde that was in the middle of paying for her half-gallon of milk, and her US magazine.
And then it morphs into a sea of panties, all being directed at the hot little number standing atop register number four.
And the entire time, he sings away…a confident smile nestled upon his face.
This is fuckin’ fantastic!
And then something happened that caught him offguard. It was something that he never saw coming, nor would he have expected in a thousand years. Amidst the plethora of panties that were plummeting his way, there stood out one lone pair of men’s briefs – a hot pink monstrosity. They hit him on the chest, and then fall and drape over his arm.
The fuck…
Fortunately he was at the chorus part of the song, and thus, had allowed his legion of fans to sing it for him. Otherwise, the song would have come to a grinding halt, courtesy of the man-panties that were sent screaming precariously close to his pristine prominence. He looks around, attempting to spot the culprit that had so rudely interjected his unmentionables into the fray. He doesn’t have to look too long, or too hard, however. Because standing by the canned green bean end-cap is none other than the panty-droppin’, poontang pie sloppin’, if the panties had their way then they’d soon be droppin’, Gian Jones.
He’s always said that he’s ‘gonna take they panties off’. He wasn’t lying.
Gian smiles at him as he finishes the song.
At least he fuckin’ realizes greatness when he sees it.
Once the song ends, he steps down from the pedestal that they had placed him on, and he is mobbed by all of the ladies in the store. And he hears everything that they are saying to him.
“You’re the sexiest celeb I’ve ever met.”
“I’d love it if you came home with me. My friends would flip!”
“If you don’t win at the PPV, I’m done with watching wrestling.”
“Why does he even think he has a chance? Everyone knows that you’re going to give him what he deserves at ‘No Holds Barred’.”
“You’re so much better than he is…he doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I slipped my number into your pants.”
“I slipped my hand into your back pocket.”
That’s gotta be Gian.
“He should just give it up…he’s out of his league.”
“God damn you’re sexy.”
“Meet me outside in fifteen minutes.”
That last one was Britt…I’d know that sultry voice anywhere.
And as even more women encircled him, a loud noise is heard coming from just off to their left.
A woman is shown standing at the front of the store, holding a megaphone to her mouth. She stares across at him, before depressing the button on the megaphone, and beginning to speak.
“I’m here to tell you why Klaus vonKnorre is going to beat the ever-loving Hell out of Alan Wallace on Monday night.”
The crowd begins to quiet down slightly, as they shift their attention to the front of the store.
Just when it was getting good…she has to go ruin it by mentioning that asshole.
“At one time, >\/< and Vain were tag team partners, confidants, stable mates, and most importantly…friends. But that was a long, long time ago…”
You got that right, babe.
“Vain got too high and mighty, and started thinking to highly of himself. >\/< put up with it at first…but just like anyone else here would, he soon tired of the idiocy that is Alan Wallace.”
The crowd at the front of the store begins to boo.
This is sooooo my kinda crowd.
“Vain is arrogant, egotistical, hard-headed, and a supreme pain in the ass…”
Don’t arrogant and egotistical mean the same thing?
“…but deep down, he knows that he can’t beat Klaus vonKnorre!”
Well I don’t know about all of that…
“>\/< has fought long and hard to attain the status that he has in the world of professional wrestling. He’s won his fair share of matches…and he’s lost his fair share of matches…but when push comes to shove, you won’t find anyone better at what he does in that ring.”
That’s a rather bold fuckin’ statement, if you ask me.
“He can brawl with the best of them…he can wrestle with the best of them…he can submit the best of them…and he can out-smart the best of them. ‘Vain’ Alan Wallace thinks he’s the greatest wrestler of his – or any other – generation. Apparently he has forgotten about Klaus vonKnorre. Klaus carried Wallace during their tenure in HSW…and he is ready to cut that string. Come Monday, there will be a new UGWC Cross-Hemisphere Champion crowned. And the reason being is simple…Klaus vonKnorre is just plain better than ‘Vain’ Alan Wallace!”
The entire crowd is currently silent, as they have listened intently to every word out of this strangers mouth. She looks over at him…and then begins walking towards him.
This chick talks an awful lot, and…wait, why did she look at me that way? And why is she coming over here?
She makes her way over to him, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head, as she looks up at him.
“I finally get a chance to meet you. And it’s a pleasure. The name is Victoria Jensen…and you are my new favorite wrestler.”
This bitch has lost her mind…I’m not her new fa…
He stops in mid-thought, as he catches his reflection in the sunglasses that now rest on the top of her head…
He stares in awe, as he studies the reflection of the man that looks back at him…
It wasn’t what he thought he would see, and he damn sure didn’t understand it.
The reflection from Jensen’s sunglasses shows only one man…
Klaus vonKnorre.
What in the fu…
Vain jerks awake to the feeling of someone shaking him. From the passenger seat, Jason Ingalls is frantically trying to wake ‘The Vain One’.
“Alan. Alan! Wake up, bro! Wake. UP!!!”
Vain attempts to shake the cobwebs loose, but his mind is extremely foggy. He speaks.
”What in the hell, Jase? What’s going on?”
Jase exhales loudly, as he once again finally begins to relax in the driver’s seat.
“Hell if I know, bro. One minute you’re sleeping soundly as we head up the road…and the next, you’re thrashing about in your seat, talking about some bitch named Brittany, and then saying over and over again the same four words – each time, with more emphasis: ‘What in the fuck’. The hell, man?”
Vain continues trying to regain his bearings, but answers nonetheless.
”Bad dream, I guess.”
“Well that much I gathered, Alan.”
Vain shakes his head from side to side, in an attempt to dislodge the memory of what he had just envisioned.
”It was bad when I realized I was shopping in West Virginia…”
“It is West Virginia, Alan.”
“It was worse when Gian threw his panties at me…”
“It is…wait…what?”
”But the worst thing of all…in my dream…I was Klaus.”
Jase contemplates for a moment.
“As in, Santa?”
”No, Jason…as in ‘The Teutonic Terror’.”
Jason Ingalls and Alan Wallace sit in silence for a few miles, neither man finding the words to say what’s on their minds. Jase is the first to break it.
“Sounds like a God damn nightmare, Alan.”
”Obviously, Jason.”
Jase grows pale as he thinks things over. Finally, with an almost apologetic look upon his face, he speaks.
“That might be my fault, Alan. I should have only had you take one of those pills. I’ve heard that some people experience delusions that are quite expansive at times. Almost as if they are in an alternate reality, or something.”
”An alternate reality? What…are you a Trickster, or something, Jase? “
Jase laughs at the reference.
“Just call me ‘Dean’, Alan.”
”What, so that makes me ‘Sam’?
Jase shrugs his shoulders, as Vain looks out the window. Jase chuckles for a few seconds, before he is interrupted – once again – by Vain.
”Hey Jase…how many bright neon rabbits have you seen standing along the road as we’ve been driving?
“Jesus Christ…maybe I should have only suggested taking half a pill…”
As the Land Rover speeds down the highway, the scene fades to black.
”Vain’s gotta say, Jase…I originally thought this would be a good idea. Vain enjoys taking the scenic route from time to time, mingling with the locals every once in a while. Private jets are so impersonal sometimes. But…Vain’s neck is telling him that he made a mistake.”
Jase glances over at Vain for a second, but then reverts his gaze back to the road, because let’s face it…safety first, bitches.
“Well we have been on the road for the better part of a day, Alan. It’s to be expected.”
”Vain’s expectation was to have a comfortable trip. Apparently your fully loaded Land Rover had other ideas.”
“It’s a seat in a vehicle, Alan…it’s not your bed. Learn to adjust to your surroundings.”
”Know what does have my bed? My private jet.”
Jase rolls his eyes as they continue down the road, passing a sign that reads Winchester. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle. He tosses it to Vain.
“Chin up, buttercup. Take two of those, and your neck will be fine.”
”Now you know very well that ‘The Vain One’ prides himself on taking excellent care of his body, and that he carefully watches what he puts into his body. It’s a temple, you know.”
“Oh, am I ever aware of that, Alan. However, I am the Head Trainer for UGWC. I wouldn’t steer you wrong, bro. If you take two of those, your neck will be fine in a half an hour. And there are no other side effects.”
Vain listens to Jase finish speaking, and then focuses his gaze upon the bottle that he now holds in his hand. After a few moments, he looks over at Jase.
”No other side effects, you say?”
Jase takes his right hand off the wheel, and marks an ‘X’ over his chest.
“Cross my heart, and all of that jazz, Alan. I wouldn’t steer you wrong. We’re friends.”
Vain weighs the words…obviously fighting with himself over whether to take the pills or not. Eventually, he pops the cap off of the bottle.
”You’re right, Jase…you and ‘The Vain One’ are friends. So if you are saying that these are fine to take, I have no reason to doubt you.”
With that, Vain turns the bottle up and taps it, allowing two pills to fall into his hand. He tosses them into his mouth, and then reaches for his Deer Park water. Twisting off the cap, he takes a large gulp of water, and swallows the pills down. He places the cap back on the bottle of water, places the cap back on the bottle of pills, and then tosses the pill bottle back at Jase.
”Vain appreciates the kindness.”
“Why don’t you get yourself some rest, Alan. I still have a few hours of driving before we switch again. It’ll do you some good.”
”That is a damn good idea, Jase. Vain believes that he will take you up on that suggestion.”
As Vain begins to settle himself into the seat, the next road sign catches his eye. Inwood – 5 Miles. The wheels begin turning…
”Inwood…Inwood…why does Vain know that name, Jase?”
“Meh, it’s the hometown of that baldheaded jackass, Chaos.”
”I see. So that puts us either in, or near, West Virginia…correct? Where the state bird is the middle finger and the state mascot is the meth addict?”
“Sounds about right, Alan.”
”Joy. The single most wretched, redneckish, hick state in the entire nation. As big as this country is, and you couldn’t drive around this shit hole, Jason?”
“Blame the GPS, Alan. At any rate, speaking of rednecks…any thoughts on your match for ‘No Holds Barred’? It is a ‘Redneck Water Torture’ match, after all.”
”Vain is at a loss, Jase. These match sounds like it would be right up Klaus’ alley, what with the redneck aspect of such shenanigans. Quite frankly, the match sounds as if it is below the stature of someone like ‘Mr. Ego’. Klaus and his idiotic ruffian friends down in Louisiana? Sure, they’ll fit right in…but Vain? Fucking spare me…”
The use of the ‘F’ word by Vain catches Ingalls completely offguard. Wide-eyed, he looks over at Vain, who seems in and out of it, as his eyes get heavier and heavier.
“Get some sleep, bro.”
Vain mumbles something, but it is indecipherable. The camera focuses in on the face of ‘The Money Maker’, purely angelic in its beauty, and extremely peaceful…..
His heavy eyelids slowly open, and he looks around in confusion. The vehicle is stopped, and Jason Ingalls is nowhere to be seen. Yawning, he stretches as best he can, considering the cramped circumstances of currently being in a vehicle. Wiping at his eyes, he then opens the door, and steps out. The sunshine shines down upon him, warming him ever so slightly, only to have the cut of the wind make the warmth its bitch.
Fuck, it’s chilly.
He reaches down and zips up the jacket that he is wearing. It’s nothing spectacular, unless ‘spectacular in its simplicity’ is actually a thing. It’s your typical run-of-the-mill black sweat jacket, with the AC/DC logo on the front. His eyebrows rise as he notices what he is wearing.
Hells yeah. AC/DC rules!
He begins walking towards the store – the lettering on the front side of the store lists the name as ‘Food Dawg’ – and he notices that every few seconds, someone else seems to notice him. And once they notice him, they can’t seem to contain themselves.
For Christ’s sake, please get a grip. It’s embarrassing. Truly.
He continues his walk towards the store, amidst a sea of chants and cheers. As he nears the automatic doors that lead into the store, he turns and waves, causing another eruption of orgasmic glee to emanate from the crowd.
That’s right, fools. Bask in my greatness. You know you want to.
He enters the store, coming to a stop at the rack where they keep the store promo ads. A child of no more than ten sees him, and after a few moments of eye-fucking the greatest man that ever lived, the child’s lip begins to quiver, and he begins pointing.
For crying out loud, kid…just stop. It’s really not that big of a deal.
The kid almost begins to hyperventilate, as he begins to pull on the shirt sleep of his overweight mother, as she sheepishly attempts to figure out how to work the debit and credit card machine.
I don’t get it…it’s like they’ve never seen a professional wrestler before. This is why I hate kids. Little bastards…
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the little ten-year-old bastard begins to shriek. Not just any shriek, mind you…but a shriek that would cause Chris Hansen to cream his Dockers. Yeah…the reaction was that horrid.
Why fucking me…
As this little bastards octave reaches epic proportions, more and more people turn their attention to its source. And then, once they realize what – or rather, who – the child is looking at, they turn their attention to the front of the store.
”It’s a good thing I don’t give two shits about the people, else I might have a problem here.
He begins his swagger into the store, as cameras begin to flash, and people begin begging for autographs. A smile creeps across his face.
Who am I kidding…I eat this shit up!
As he stands there with a shit-eating grin on his face, one of the store associates makes her way over towards him. She stands maybe five-feet, three-inches tall, and has all the right curves, in all the right places. As she smiles up at him, he looks down at her, and notices her nametag.
Brittany, eh? I’ve known a few by that name over the years. Should I speak, or just smile? Fuck it, I don’t know this broad. I’ll just glare. Yeah, that’s it. Glare.”
The Customer Service Associate is talking to him, but what she is saying doesn’t seem to be registering. That might have something to do with the fact that he is completely staring at her chest, and not paying a damn bit of attention to anything else. At least not until he hears the magic words.
“…and that is why I absolutely adore you. Every time I see you step into that ring…it gives me chills in my happy place. You should visit my happy place sometime…”
Annndddd….YAHTZEE! I’d definitely visit your happy place, baby. I’m sure it’s totes amazing!”
It begins with Brittany, and then one of her coworkers chime in. A few customers hear, and they too begin prodding him to do it. At first he resists, but after another chant of his name goes up, he can’t help but to give in to temptation.
Hell, why not? It’ll make for a good spot on my show.
With that, he hops up onto register number 4, and someone from off camera throws him a microphone. And with that, he begins singing…
He completely owns the entire store. Mother fuckers to the left are singing along, while mother fuckers to the right are chanting his name. He is completely owning this shit. And then it happens.
Right there, during his performance…
In front of God and everyone…
The panties begin flying.
It begins with the panties of the hot little Customer Service Assistant, Brittany.
It continues with the panties of the slender little blonde that was in the middle of paying for her half-gallon of milk, and her US magazine.
And then it morphs into a sea of panties, all being directed at the hot little number standing atop register number four.
And the entire time, he sings away…a confident smile nestled upon his face.
This is fuckin’ fantastic!
And then something happened that caught him offguard. It was something that he never saw coming, nor would he have expected in a thousand years. Amidst the plethora of panties that were plummeting his way, there stood out one lone pair of men’s briefs – a hot pink monstrosity. They hit him on the chest, and then fall and drape over his arm.
The fuck…
Fortunately he was at the chorus part of the song, and thus, had allowed his legion of fans to sing it for him. Otherwise, the song would have come to a grinding halt, courtesy of the man-panties that were sent screaming precariously close to his pristine prominence. He looks around, attempting to spot the culprit that had so rudely interjected his unmentionables into the fray. He doesn’t have to look too long, or too hard, however. Because standing by the canned green bean end-cap is none other than the panty-droppin’, poontang pie sloppin’, if the panties had their way then they’d soon be droppin’, Gian Jones.
He’s always said that he’s ‘gonna take they panties off’. He wasn’t lying.
Gian smiles at him as he finishes the song.
At least he fuckin’ realizes greatness when he sees it.
Once the song ends, he steps down from the pedestal that they had placed him on, and he is mobbed by all of the ladies in the store. And he hears everything that they are saying to him.
“You’re the sexiest celeb I’ve ever met.”
“I’d love it if you came home with me. My friends would flip!”
“If you don’t win at the PPV, I’m done with watching wrestling.”
“Why does he even think he has a chance? Everyone knows that you’re going to give him what he deserves at ‘No Holds Barred’.”
“You’re so much better than he is…he doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I slipped my number into your pants.”
“I slipped my hand into your back pocket.”
That’s gotta be Gian.
“He should just give it up…he’s out of his league.”
“God damn you’re sexy.”
“Meet me outside in fifteen minutes.”
That last one was Britt…I’d know that sultry voice anywhere.
And as even more women encircled him, a loud noise is heard coming from just off to their left.
A woman is shown standing at the front of the store, holding a megaphone to her mouth. She stares across at him, before depressing the button on the megaphone, and beginning to speak.
“I’m here to tell you why Klaus vonKnorre is going to beat the ever-loving Hell out of Alan Wallace on Monday night.”
The crowd begins to quiet down slightly, as they shift their attention to the front of the store.
Just when it was getting good…she has to go ruin it by mentioning that asshole.
“At one time, >\/< and Vain were tag team partners, confidants, stable mates, and most importantly…friends. But that was a long, long time ago…”
You got that right, babe.
“Vain got too high and mighty, and started thinking to highly of himself. >\/< put up with it at first…but just like anyone else here would, he soon tired of the idiocy that is Alan Wallace.”
The crowd at the front of the store begins to boo.
This is sooooo my kinda crowd.
“Vain is arrogant, egotistical, hard-headed, and a supreme pain in the ass…”
Don’t arrogant and egotistical mean the same thing?
“…but deep down, he knows that he can’t beat Klaus vonKnorre!”
Well I don’t know about all of that…
“>\/< has fought long and hard to attain the status that he has in the world of professional wrestling. He’s won his fair share of matches…and he’s lost his fair share of matches…but when push comes to shove, you won’t find anyone better at what he does in that ring.”
That’s a rather bold fuckin’ statement, if you ask me.
“He can brawl with the best of them…he can wrestle with the best of them…he can submit the best of them…and he can out-smart the best of them. ‘Vain’ Alan Wallace thinks he’s the greatest wrestler of his – or any other – generation. Apparently he has forgotten about Klaus vonKnorre. Klaus carried Wallace during their tenure in HSW…and he is ready to cut that string. Come Monday, there will be a new UGWC Cross-Hemisphere Champion crowned. And the reason being is simple…Klaus vonKnorre is just plain better than ‘Vain’ Alan Wallace!”
The entire crowd is currently silent, as they have listened intently to every word out of this strangers mouth. She looks over at him…and then begins walking towards him.
This chick talks an awful lot, and…wait, why did she look at me that way? And why is she coming over here?
She makes her way over to him, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head, as she looks up at him.
“I finally get a chance to meet you. And it’s a pleasure. The name is Victoria Jensen…and you are my new favorite wrestler.”
This bitch has lost her mind…I’m not her new fa…
He stops in mid-thought, as he catches his reflection in the sunglasses that now rest on the top of her head…
He stares in awe, as he studies the reflection of the man that looks back at him…
It wasn’t what he thought he would see, and he damn sure didn’t understand it.
The reflection from Jensen’s sunglasses shows only one man…
Klaus vonKnorre.
What in the fu…
Vain jerks awake to the feeling of someone shaking him. From the passenger seat, Jason Ingalls is frantically trying to wake ‘The Vain One’.
“Alan. Alan! Wake up, bro! Wake. UP!!!”
Vain attempts to shake the cobwebs loose, but his mind is extremely foggy. He speaks.
”What in the hell, Jase? What’s going on?”
Jase exhales loudly, as he once again finally begins to relax in the driver’s seat.
“Hell if I know, bro. One minute you’re sleeping soundly as we head up the road…and the next, you’re thrashing about in your seat, talking about some bitch named Brittany, and then saying over and over again the same four words – each time, with more emphasis: ‘What in the fuck’. The hell, man?”
Vain continues trying to regain his bearings, but answers nonetheless.
”Bad dream, I guess.”
“Well that much I gathered, Alan.”
Vain shakes his head from side to side, in an attempt to dislodge the memory of what he had just envisioned.
”It was bad when I realized I was shopping in West Virginia…”
“It is West Virginia, Alan.”
“It was worse when Gian threw his panties at me…”
“It is…wait…what?”
”But the worst thing of all…in my dream…I was Klaus.”
Jase contemplates for a moment.
“As in, Santa?”
”No, Jason…as in ‘The Teutonic Terror’.”
Jason Ingalls and Alan Wallace sit in silence for a few miles, neither man finding the words to say what’s on their minds. Jase is the first to break it.
“Sounds like a God damn nightmare, Alan.”
”Obviously, Jason.”
Jase grows pale as he thinks things over. Finally, with an almost apologetic look upon his face, he speaks.
“That might be my fault, Alan. I should have only had you take one of those pills. I’ve heard that some people experience delusions that are quite expansive at times. Almost as if they are in an alternate reality, or something.”
”An alternate reality? What…are you a Trickster, or something, Jase? “
Jase laughs at the reference.
“Just call me ‘Dean’, Alan.”
”What, so that makes me ‘Sam’?
Jase shrugs his shoulders, as Vain looks out the window. Jase chuckles for a few seconds, before he is interrupted – once again – by Vain.
”Hey Jase…how many bright neon rabbits have you seen standing along the road as we’ve been driving?
“Jesus Christ…maybe I should have only suggested taking half a pill…”
As the Land Rover speeds down the highway, the scene fades to black.