Post by Deleted on Oct 24, 2010 3:10:00 GMT -5
A young man is stocking Chef Boyardee products onto a shelf in a grocery store. The man is twenty-something, white, tall and in good shape. He has unkempt, shoulder-length black hair and a five o'clock shadow. He's wearing khaki pants, black shoes and an untucked red polo shirt. The young man does not appear to be enjoying his work; the expression on his face hints of boredom and frustration as he goes about his business of stocking the shelf.
Narrator: There comes a time when a young man has to check his constitution. He knows that he's not living right, but what can he do to change his life? For one thing, he can take a stand. As a great Canadian once said, "Enough is enough and it's time for a change!" My name is Phillip Baines and today at 10:13 AM at the In-N-Out Market in Rockville, Connecticut, I heeded those profound words. I made a change in my life.
The young man suddenly stops what he's doing and slams the case of Chef Boyardee products to the ground. He rises to his feet and declares in a booming voice with a slight New England accent: "MY LIFE SUCKS!” The shoppers in the aisle stop and stare at him with shocked expressions on their faces.
Narrator: Lest you think that I'm just an emo crybaby who's experiencing PMS, let me drop some shit on you. I'm 21 years old and I've been working at the same mundane, dead-end job for the last three years. I know that grocery stores are a necessity in every consumer-based economy, but I wouldn't wish working here on my worst enemy. I could have gone to college like my friends from high school. I could have done that, but what would have been the point? All of my friends had goals, dreams and ambitions. I didn't want to "be" anything. For me school was always just a place to screw around with my buddies, pick up chicks and play sports. When I actually had to go to class, it was pure hell. I hated tests and lessons and paying attention. That shit gets on my nerves.
During my senior year in high school I won the state wrestling championship in my weight class. I received interest from local colleges like Central, Trinity, UHart, shit like that. They were offering me full scholarships, but more school was the last thing that I wanted. If I could have just wrestled and scored with chicks then college would have been ideal, but they actually wanted me to learn. Fuck that. I was 18. I wanted to be free and live my life without boundaries. Unfortunately, my parents did not share my vision and they threatened to kick me out of the house. That's when I applied for a job at this shithole. That's right, I threw away a college scholarship to do shit like stocking cans of motherfucking Chef Boyardee onto shelves, and bagging people's groceries. Pretty stupid, right? I was going to keep living this way, too. I WAS going to until I had an epiphany this morning before work.
The same young man from the grocery store is now sitting in front of a computer in a small, dingy, single-room apartment. There are dirty clothes on the floor. The bed is unmade. There are empty beer cans and an old pizza box on the coffee table. The young man is busy looking at classified ads on Craigslist. One ad in particular catches his attention. It's an ad for "Crimson House Dojo in Hartford. Trainer to the stars Bolts Quackenbush is searching for the next generation of champions! Bolts and his staff of world class coaches will train you in a variety of striking, grappling and martial arts techniques! Do you have what it takes to be the best? Join now!"
Narrator: I'd heard of Bolts Quackenbush, even seen him on TV when he was managing Bobby Cairo. I knew that Bolts knew his shit. I figured that with my wrestling pedigree and Bolts' years of experience, this is just the motherfucker who could pull me out of my doldrums. Still, I wasn't entirely certain if I wanted to make the leap back into training and competing. I haven't competed in more than three years, since my senior year in high school. I stay in shape, hoop it up at the YMCA, tap as much ass as I can, even workout a couple of times a week at Cardio Express, but there's a difference between "in shape" and "fighting shape". Plus, man, I didn't know if I still had the will to compete. Once a man develops a defeated outlook on life he becomes complacent. Even if he's not happy with where he is, he doesn't have the will to snap out of it and turn things around. I had to think long and hard before I made any final decisions about my future.
The young man opens one of the drawers of the computer desk, reaches into the drawer and pulls out a small manila envelope. The words BuyMyPanties.com are written on the envelope in black marker. The man reaches into the envelope and pulls out a sealed Ziploc bag containing a pair of pink panties. He opens the bag, removes the panties and holds them up to his nose. He smiles perversely as he inhales their scent.
Narrator: That's right, I buy women's used panties online. That might sound sick and you might think that I'm a pervert, but when you're broke, chronically depressed and working as a low level employee at a goddamned grocery store, picking up chicks isn't always in the cards.
The young man is now standing in an office, in front of a desk. There is a man sitting behind the desk, an older gentleman. The older man looks to be in his 50's with graying hair. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and a red tie. The nameplate on his desk reads Ian Dexter, Store Manager. Mr. Dexter's face is reddening and a vein in his neck is bulging as he screams at the young man.
Mr. Dexter: Baines, you asshole! Who the hell do you think you are pulling a stunt like that in front of my customers? You're fired! Get your shit and get out of my store!
Baines: Mr. Dexter, with all due respect you can take this job and shove it up your ass, you old fuck. I'm tired of working here and I'm tired of taking orders from you. You can't fire me because I quit!
Mr. Dexter: You ungrateful bastard!
Dexter leaps over the desk in one swift motion, an impressive move for a man his age, and attempts to strangle Baines. Baines unloads with a straight right hand to Dexter's jaw. Dexter's legs go limp like linguini and he collapses to the ground, laid out by a single punch.
Narrator: It's not that I didn't appreciate everything that Mr. Dexter did for me, hiring me for minimum wage three years ago, not giving me a single raise or promotion since then and making sure to treat me like shit every day. It's just that I really did feel like it was time for a change, time for me to finally tap into my vast potential and do something important with my life. I might never be the President of the United States or the lead singer in a world famous rock and roll band, but I can damn sure stomp the shit out of other grown men for large sums of money. I learned how to wrestle in high school but I learned how to fight, I mean REALLY fight, on the streets in my hometown of Rockville, Connecticut. This is where the ghetto meets the country, and in both of those places you gotta know how to throw down when the time comes. I decided that it was time for me to put those talents to good use. After punching in my resignation notice on Dexter's face, I took a trip into Hartford to meet the man himself, Mr. Bolts Quackenbush.
Baines is now dressed in street clothes, a gray sweatshirt, blue jeans and black sneakers, and standing in the middle of a large, modern-looking gym. All around the gym men and women are sparring and training, in rings and cages and on mats, and working out on state of the art exercise equipment. Bolts Quackenbush, the spitting image of George Carlin if ever there were one, is standing next to Baines, talking with him. Bolts is wearing his workout gear, a black tracksuit and matching sneakers.
Bolts: You want to be a pro wrestler? Almost everybody that comes here nowadays wants to train MMA. They all want to be the next Brock Lesnar and fight in the UFC. I'm an old man but I can adapt to consumer demand. Hell, I've been training "mixed martial arts" since my days in the military. You think guys like Ken Shamrock and Bas Rutten were the first ones to mix different fighting styles together? Come on now!
Baines: I really would like to become a professional wrestler, sir. It's my goal in life to become WFC World Champion.
Bolts raises an eyebrow at Baines.
Bolts: It's WCF, kid.
Baines: Yes, yes, that's what I meant. I'm a little bit nervous, to be honest, but I really want to become WCF World Champion!
Bolts: Joining the Crimson House Dojo don't make you a world champion anymore than jerkin' it in the shower makes you a man. We can give you the training, oh sure we can do that. We can teach you technique until you're blue in the balls, but you gotta have the desire, son. You gotta have the passion from within to succeed in the world around you. I don't care if you arm is broken or your scrotum is torn, you suck it up and you soldier forthwith! Do you understand what I'm saying, Baines?
Baines eagerly nods his head.
Baines: I am your motherfucking sponge, Mr. Quackenbush. Drip all of your knowledge onto the ground and let me soak that shit up.
Bolts smiles wryly and extends his hand to Baines.
Bolts: Welcome to Crimson House, Phillip! You're going to be a champion someday, young man.
Baines and Bolts shake hands, each man with a wide, brimming smile on his face.
Narrator: Was I intimidated to be walking into the training ground of champions? You're damn right I was. Only a fool wouldn't be. If a man pulls out a gun and holds it to your face, are you going to be intimidated? Fuck yeah. But then you swat his arm away and dislodge his motherfucking jaw with an uppercut. That's what I did to the nerves that I was feeling. I want to be a champion in life and in professional wrestling. I want to be one of the rare men in this world that reach their full potential. I will not be a coward. I will not quit on my dream. I will not walk out of Crimson House Dojo with my tail between my legs. Besides, there's some fine bitches training here and I could definitely get used to calling this place my home.
In one corner of the gym a large, flatscreen TV is showing a local news broadcast. The anchorman, whose name is Dan Gabagool according to the graphic on the bottom of the screen, is reporting on the upcoming elections.
Dan Gabagool: In the race for the governor's mansion, well-funded Libertarian candidate Bobby Cairo is surprising many political pundits and insiders by making this a three-way race. When Cairo announced his candidacy this summer he was considered a longshot to win, but recent polling has shown that Cairo is in a statistical dead heat with his Democratic and Republican opponents in the race to succeed outgoing Governor Jodi Rell. Who will win? It's anybody's guess right now, but support for Bobby Cairo appears to be strengthening with less than two weeks left before Election Day.
The broadcast cuts to video of Cairo giving a campaign speech to a group of supporters in New London. Cairo gestures demonstratively with his arms and hands while speaking, to emphasize his points.
Bobby Cairo: I pledge to you that I will not be a career politician. I will serve only one term as your governor. In that one term I will clean up the cesspool in the state capital. I will wrench control of this state away from the blood-sucking bureaucrats and give it back to you the hard working, tax paying citizens! Connecticut is known as the Constitution State, that's our nickname. I will bring back the constitutional principles that our state and our country were founded upon. People call New Hampshire the Freedom State, "Live free or die" they say. New Hampshire ain't gonna be [BLEEP] compared to Connecticut once we reclaim our state from the bureaucrats! High taxes? Bye bye! Wasteful spending? Good riddance! Regulations that hurt businesses and kill jobs? Sayonara! Marijuana prohibition?
Cairo pulls out a joint, lights up and takes a toke.
Bobby Cairo: Up...in...smoke!
The crowd roars its approval and gives Cairo a thunderous ovation.
Narrator: That's right, Bobby Cairo is running for Governor of Connecticut. The man has pledged to eliminate the state income tax, slash state spending, and legalize marijuana AND prostitution, among other things. He's got my vote, of course, but part of me, the selfish part, hopes that he doesn't win. I know that Bolts Quackenbush can teach me many great things, but I can't help but think that one-on-one instruction from Bobby Fucking Cairo himself would take me all the way to the top of the professional wrestling world. It's a dream anyway, right?
Narrator: There comes a time when a young man has to check his constitution. He knows that he's not living right, but what can he do to change his life? For one thing, he can take a stand. As a great Canadian once said, "Enough is enough and it's time for a change!" My name is Phillip Baines and today at 10:13 AM at the In-N-Out Market in Rockville, Connecticut, I heeded those profound words. I made a change in my life.
The young man suddenly stops what he's doing and slams the case of Chef Boyardee products to the ground. He rises to his feet and declares in a booming voice with a slight New England accent: "MY LIFE SUCKS!” The shoppers in the aisle stop and stare at him with shocked expressions on their faces.
Narrator: Lest you think that I'm just an emo crybaby who's experiencing PMS, let me drop some shit on you. I'm 21 years old and I've been working at the same mundane, dead-end job for the last three years. I know that grocery stores are a necessity in every consumer-based economy, but I wouldn't wish working here on my worst enemy. I could have gone to college like my friends from high school. I could have done that, but what would have been the point? All of my friends had goals, dreams and ambitions. I didn't want to "be" anything. For me school was always just a place to screw around with my buddies, pick up chicks and play sports. When I actually had to go to class, it was pure hell. I hated tests and lessons and paying attention. That shit gets on my nerves.
During my senior year in high school I won the state wrestling championship in my weight class. I received interest from local colleges like Central, Trinity, UHart, shit like that. They were offering me full scholarships, but more school was the last thing that I wanted. If I could have just wrestled and scored with chicks then college would have been ideal, but they actually wanted me to learn. Fuck that. I was 18. I wanted to be free and live my life without boundaries. Unfortunately, my parents did not share my vision and they threatened to kick me out of the house. That's when I applied for a job at this shithole. That's right, I threw away a college scholarship to do shit like stocking cans of motherfucking Chef Boyardee onto shelves, and bagging people's groceries. Pretty stupid, right? I was going to keep living this way, too. I WAS going to until I had an epiphany this morning before work.
The same young man from the grocery store is now sitting in front of a computer in a small, dingy, single-room apartment. There are dirty clothes on the floor. The bed is unmade. There are empty beer cans and an old pizza box on the coffee table. The young man is busy looking at classified ads on Craigslist. One ad in particular catches his attention. It's an ad for "Crimson House Dojo in Hartford. Trainer to the stars Bolts Quackenbush is searching for the next generation of champions! Bolts and his staff of world class coaches will train you in a variety of striking, grappling and martial arts techniques! Do you have what it takes to be the best? Join now!"
Narrator: I'd heard of Bolts Quackenbush, even seen him on TV when he was managing Bobby Cairo. I knew that Bolts knew his shit. I figured that with my wrestling pedigree and Bolts' years of experience, this is just the motherfucker who could pull me out of my doldrums. Still, I wasn't entirely certain if I wanted to make the leap back into training and competing. I haven't competed in more than three years, since my senior year in high school. I stay in shape, hoop it up at the YMCA, tap as much ass as I can, even workout a couple of times a week at Cardio Express, but there's a difference between "in shape" and "fighting shape". Plus, man, I didn't know if I still had the will to compete. Once a man develops a defeated outlook on life he becomes complacent. Even if he's not happy with where he is, he doesn't have the will to snap out of it and turn things around. I had to think long and hard before I made any final decisions about my future.
The young man opens one of the drawers of the computer desk, reaches into the drawer and pulls out a small manila envelope. The words BuyMyPanties.com are written on the envelope in black marker. The man reaches into the envelope and pulls out a sealed Ziploc bag containing a pair of pink panties. He opens the bag, removes the panties and holds them up to his nose. He smiles perversely as he inhales their scent.
Narrator: That's right, I buy women's used panties online. That might sound sick and you might think that I'm a pervert, but when you're broke, chronically depressed and working as a low level employee at a goddamned grocery store, picking up chicks isn't always in the cards.
The young man is now standing in an office, in front of a desk. There is a man sitting behind the desk, an older gentleman. The older man looks to be in his 50's with graying hair. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and a red tie. The nameplate on his desk reads Ian Dexter, Store Manager. Mr. Dexter's face is reddening and a vein in his neck is bulging as he screams at the young man.
Mr. Dexter: Baines, you asshole! Who the hell do you think you are pulling a stunt like that in front of my customers? You're fired! Get your shit and get out of my store!
Baines: Mr. Dexter, with all due respect you can take this job and shove it up your ass, you old fuck. I'm tired of working here and I'm tired of taking orders from you. You can't fire me because I quit!
Mr. Dexter: You ungrateful bastard!
Dexter leaps over the desk in one swift motion, an impressive move for a man his age, and attempts to strangle Baines. Baines unloads with a straight right hand to Dexter's jaw. Dexter's legs go limp like linguini and he collapses to the ground, laid out by a single punch.
Narrator: It's not that I didn't appreciate everything that Mr. Dexter did for me, hiring me for minimum wage three years ago, not giving me a single raise or promotion since then and making sure to treat me like shit every day. It's just that I really did feel like it was time for a change, time for me to finally tap into my vast potential and do something important with my life. I might never be the President of the United States or the lead singer in a world famous rock and roll band, but I can damn sure stomp the shit out of other grown men for large sums of money. I learned how to wrestle in high school but I learned how to fight, I mean REALLY fight, on the streets in my hometown of Rockville, Connecticut. This is where the ghetto meets the country, and in both of those places you gotta know how to throw down when the time comes. I decided that it was time for me to put those talents to good use. After punching in my resignation notice on Dexter's face, I took a trip into Hartford to meet the man himself, Mr. Bolts Quackenbush.
Baines is now dressed in street clothes, a gray sweatshirt, blue jeans and black sneakers, and standing in the middle of a large, modern-looking gym. All around the gym men and women are sparring and training, in rings and cages and on mats, and working out on state of the art exercise equipment. Bolts Quackenbush, the spitting image of George Carlin if ever there were one, is standing next to Baines, talking with him. Bolts is wearing his workout gear, a black tracksuit and matching sneakers.
Bolts: You want to be a pro wrestler? Almost everybody that comes here nowadays wants to train MMA. They all want to be the next Brock Lesnar and fight in the UFC. I'm an old man but I can adapt to consumer demand. Hell, I've been training "mixed martial arts" since my days in the military. You think guys like Ken Shamrock and Bas Rutten were the first ones to mix different fighting styles together? Come on now!
Baines: I really would like to become a professional wrestler, sir. It's my goal in life to become WFC World Champion.
Bolts raises an eyebrow at Baines.
Bolts: It's WCF, kid.
Baines: Yes, yes, that's what I meant. I'm a little bit nervous, to be honest, but I really want to become WCF World Champion!
Bolts: Joining the Crimson House Dojo don't make you a world champion anymore than jerkin' it in the shower makes you a man. We can give you the training, oh sure we can do that. We can teach you technique until you're blue in the balls, but you gotta have the desire, son. You gotta have the passion from within to succeed in the world around you. I don't care if you arm is broken or your scrotum is torn, you suck it up and you soldier forthwith! Do you understand what I'm saying, Baines?
Baines eagerly nods his head.
Baines: I am your motherfucking sponge, Mr. Quackenbush. Drip all of your knowledge onto the ground and let me soak that shit up.
Bolts smiles wryly and extends his hand to Baines.
Bolts: Welcome to Crimson House, Phillip! You're going to be a champion someday, young man.
Baines and Bolts shake hands, each man with a wide, brimming smile on his face.
Narrator: Was I intimidated to be walking into the training ground of champions? You're damn right I was. Only a fool wouldn't be. If a man pulls out a gun and holds it to your face, are you going to be intimidated? Fuck yeah. But then you swat his arm away and dislodge his motherfucking jaw with an uppercut. That's what I did to the nerves that I was feeling. I want to be a champion in life and in professional wrestling. I want to be one of the rare men in this world that reach their full potential. I will not be a coward. I will not quit on my dream. I will not walk out of Crimson House Dojo with my tail between my legs. Besides, there's some fine bitches training here and I could definitely get used to calling this place my home.
In one corner of the gym a large, flatscreen TV is showing a local news broadcast. The anchorman, whose name is Dan Gabagool according to the graphic on the bottom of the screen, is reporting on the upcoming elections.
Dan Gabagool: In the race for the governor's mansion, well-funded Libertarian candidate Bobby Cairo is surprising many political pundits and insiders by making this a three-way race. When Cairo announced his candidacy this summer he was considered a longshot to win, but recent polling has shown that Cairo is in a statistical dead heat with his Democratic and Republican opponents in the race to succeed outgoing Governor Jodi Rell. Who will win? It's anybody's guess right now, but support for Bobby Cairo appears to be strengthening with less than two weeks left before Election Day.
The broadcast cuts to video of Cairo giving a campaign speech to a group of supporters in New London. Cairo gestures demonstratively with his arms and hands while speaking, to emphasize his points.
Bobby Cairo: I pledge to you that I will not be a career politician. I will serve only one term as your governor. In that one term I will clean up the cesspool in the state capital. I will wrench control of this state away from the blood-sucking bureaucrats and give it back to you the hard working, tax paying citizens! Connecticut is known as the Constitution State, that's our nickname. I will bring back the constitutional principles that our state and our country were founded upon. People call New Hampshire the Freedom State, "Live free or die" they say. New Hampshire ain't gonna be [BLEEP] compared to Connecticut once we reclaim our state from the bureaucrats! High taxes? Bye bye! Wasteful spending? Good riddance! Regulations that hurt businesses and kill jobs? Sayonara! Marijuana prohibition?
Cairo pulls out a joint, lights up and takes a toke.
Bobby Cairo: Up...in...smoke!
The crowd roars its approval and gives Cairo a thunderous ovation.
Narrator: That's right, Bobby Cairo is running for Governor of Connecticut. The man has pledged to eliminate the state income tax, slash state spending, and legalize marijuana AND prostitution, among other things. He's got my vote, of course, but part of me, the selfish part, hopes that he doesn't win. I know that Bolts Quackenbush can teach me many great things, but I can't help but think that one-on-one instruction from Bobby Fucking Cairo himself would take me all the way to the top of the professional wrestling world. It's a dream anyway, right?
