Post by Logan on Aug 30, 2012 19:38:26 GMT -5
[li]Say Abracadabra Now
Summary: The search for Donald Deruty continues leading Sarah Twilight to a comedy club in New Orleans. Upon arriving Sarah chews up a potent amount of Pall Red, finding more D-Day than he can handle.[/i][/li][/ul]
SECRET ADMIRER
”Murdered by a bolt of mother nature.” – Secret Admirer
[/color]”Murdered by a bolt of mother nature.” – Secret Admirer
[/center]
The rain bathed away the dirt from pavement. Its continuous steady pour rinsing off a week’s worth of dust and oil drips. The never ending drops bounced off the steel exterior with a methodic tune and drooled down over the windshield. This was serenity. Dean Walker played events through his head of his childhood. The rain calmed him then just as it did now. Back when everyone wasn’t dead. When enough Walker’s were around to gather on holidays and share a laugh. Back before Edward, his Father, was murdered by a bolt of mother nature, and back before a year to the day later his Mother fell asleep holding a cigarette and spared a funeral home of cremation. It didn’t take much less of ten years for the remaining Walker’s to drop quicker than Kennedy’s. The rain, much like the cigarette he was puffing was the only enjoyable consistencies that stood by him. The only aspects of life he counted on never to end. Always to remain fluent until the day he ended. Dean was just inhaling another fume of death when Sarah Twilight emerged onto the porch holding an umbrella above his head.
Dean Walker: About time.
He whispered under his breath. The loud down pour would have covered a gunshot, but he played this one carefully either way. Dean had been waiting a little under four hours for Sarah’s retreat from the house. Despite the anxious directed comment, he and patience were the best of buds. He could have waited another four. On such a messy day he wondered why Sarah Twilight wasn’t wearing a coat, and instead the short tank top that barely covered his body, along with a pair of shorts swallowed by his rear. Scratch that. The bigger question at hand was why did Logan, a man, wear that. His curiosity for such a thing lead him here tonight. Sarah Twilight reached the door car and fumbled he’s keys down into the gutter soaking the electronic keychain lock. Dean had known of Sarah Twilight, the real one. Never personally met her but he knew of her. The real Sarah Twilight put a five hundred mile distance between herself and sexuality. She’d never be seen in ass huggers, much less makeup. What Logan was doing with her proved to be an entirely different thing. He seemed to be more in touch with his own body, more trashy, but even a plainly dressed lack of face cake Sarah Twilight trumped a dolled up Logan in the business of ‘beauty’ any day of the week. Any hour, minute, or second. He was completely hideous. Couldn’t have passed for anything close to a woman if he were standing in the middle of a million women. So why the red hair, Logan? Why the shorts? Why the change of voice? Why a woman? Why Sarah Twilight? Dean didn’t know whether to think Logan’s mind snapped it’s last small thread of sanity or if he were coming out of a far tucked away hidden closet.
The sound of liquid bullets shot from the sky and clinked down on the aluminum roof. Much like most days I never bothered watching weather reports. So to say the least the rain was a surprise for me. Rain or shine, plans were plans, and no intentions were held of canceling them. Either way though it wouldn’t hurt to see what this weather was doing. Picking up the remote from beside me, from the cushion of my comfortable couch queendom, I flipped to the nearest station and watched a bald headed tubby man point his fingers to a paper backdrop of clouds with bolts of rain stretched from them. The term as tubby baldy used was heavy and until ten pm. That promised another six hours of this drenching liquid. Some say it was God urinating. The thought of that alone felt just as offensive to me as torching a church. People really should lay off the God jokes. You never know what could be waiting for you after death.
Sarah Twilight: Let it pour.
Talking to myself, I didn’t mind the rain. It was welcomed. Ever since I was a little girl I never minded it. Standing on my tippy toes and watching out the window to see the earth soak it up. The way it turned the tree bark a deeper shade. Tapped leafs and rolled off splashing onto another. I loved the rain. And it would no longer be enjoyed from this couch, but from a car. If memory served one correct those motor starters lingered somewhere over by the table near the front door. My eyes immediately found them. Now it was just a matter of getting off my ass and grabbing them. The couch had become my bottoms home for the day. Saying a few things about a few nobodies might help me unglue my ass from this cushion. My own ass’s motivational speaker.
Sarah Twilight: Talk about a jobber squash. Revenge was gawd damn cake walk. How did Donald Deruty ever win… anything? There was a small moment, maybe once or twice where he nearly made me break a sweat. But no, really, what the fuck was that D-Day? One of the shortest matches I’ve ever been a part of. Probably even shorter than the small flap of meat dangling from your crotch. Old news and is old news. And that’s exactly what you just be became. I mean yeah I talked a lot of shit going into that match. That’s what I normally do. I, however, expected a little bit more. You’re a disappointment, Donald. After you jerked the last bit of gas out of Gravedigger’s pussy, you should have went home. Now you’re just another notch on my broomstick. Another bitch of the Twilight. And you aren’t the only bitch lurking WCF. Well, you’re not technically here anymore, right? The Twilight ‘Zoned’ your ass out of here. Oh, I heard the talk. The Deruty, our American Vagina, felt that enough was enough and it was time to take a break from losing to women. Where will you go now, Donald? Back to IWF to lay your hungry mouth on Corey’s cunt? Good luck. Onto other worthless folks. The upcoming days features three men, all of which reek of unoriginal shit. Shall we begin with one of them, begin wasting our time? Okay. Waylon Cash. Your classic piece of Southern trash. He smokes weed and listens to ICP. I’m not totally against weed, it’s not as bad as some people make it out to be. ICP however… who listens to that other than fat dumb people? Waylon Cash one would assume. Let’s all be honest. Waylon beat FPV because FPV stayed up for all of three days prior playing Super Mario Bros and jerking off to 16-bit images of Princess Peach until so much fluid was expelled from his body that he could hardly stand for Night of Champions let alone defend a World Title. Am I standing in defense of FPV? No. I’m pointing out how pathetic Waylon Cash’s victory was and those precious two weeks he somehow managed to survive with the belt. You’re a onetime thing, Cash. A bum that spent his last five dollars on a lottery ticket and managed to win.
And that was enough to lift my rear from its cushion haven. I stretched and cracked bones towards the closet. Reaching inside and grabbing a black umbrella. Much as I enjoyed the rain it did not enjoy me. It was coming done in five gallon buckets and it wouldn’t take but a second or two for someone to be completely drenched. The inside of my car didn’t need any more moisture other than the cool breeze of air conditioning. Keys now in my hand I headed through the front door and out onto the porch springing the umbrella open above my head. Just like the aluminum shelter, the rain had a way of dancing drops, and if you listened closed enough you could hear nature sing into your ear. The keys bounced off my palm and dropped from my hand into the flowing street gutter. Once I retrived them I doubted the electronic unlocker would no longer work so I unlocked my car door the old fashion way, stuck a key into it and turned.
Sarah Twilight collapsed his umbrella and slipped into the car closing the driver’s side door shut. The rain dripped down so gracefully. Dean wished Sarah would have taken a little while longer so that he could continue to enjoy it. Now it was time for business. Sarah’s car, even beneath the noisy cover of rain, roared with ignition. The lights popped on. Dean kept his off. Sarah’s glowing taillights glowed on the road enough to let him see. Following him now, staying an unnoticeable length behind, the beading rain slashing off his wipers drew him back to the death of his Father. They had a nice little house tucked backed off in the country side with a respectable farm. Nothing too big. A few chicken houses, half acre of cotton and tobacco fields. A few acres of wooded lands that he spent most of his time tiptoeing through the small creeks and sneaking up on the frogs that lurked within the land surrounding the farm. Many lovely memories. He could still inhale the leather smell of his Father’s skin when he would come home from work and pick him up while Mom happily sweated over a frying pan nursing collards from the garden. The rain reminded him. On the day that a bolt of lightning pierced his Father’s head and exited from his foot, Dean had been waiting on the large wooden porch feeling the first drops of rain touchdown onto his arms. He waited here every day, eyeing the hills horizon until his Father’s grinning face would appear over it. Lightning struck in the distance. Maybe Daddy worked late? The hill was empty. Dean waited, waited, and waited. Sarah Twilight’s taillights brightened and the car slowed to a stop interrupting train of thought. Did someone just get into the car with Sarah? The rain devastating his vision, he couldn’t tell for sure.
Descending into the rain covered street, I could not help but get the feeling that someone was coming with me. The rear view mirror confirmed my paranoia. Nothing behind me. Nothing that I could see at least. This rain was devastating. The windshield wipers wiped back and forth easing the view of the approaching road. Tonight’s rain wouldn’t be a problem for me. It provided cover, disguise, which I so needed. Noob Cha-Cha arranged my trip tonight. The instructions were quite simple. But first, I would delight in the most trashiest of talk.
Sarah Twilight: My eyes have their greatest attention on Mr. Lunatic, Oblivion. Our own resident monster boy. If he is a threat, if, he can be more dangerous than a bag of angry cats. He is however not much of a threat to me. It probably isn’t wise to underestimate the nutjob. I’ve made mistakes such as these before. When it all boils down to hard facts, he is too psychopath for his own good. Sometimes I wonder how is even able to function outside a ring. Does he have enough self-control to wipe his own ass or does he simply trout along all day with swamp butt while he wears that little mask of his. Let’s rethink this whole Oblivion personality. You know, maybe at the end of the day he isn’t really that much an ‘evil’ bad guy, or an animal with rabies that needs to be put down. Nothing deserving enough like that to be handled as some dangerous unpredictable nutty man. My theory is that Oblivion is simply a six foot five retard in a mask that got fired from Kroger for drooling on people’s groceries while he bagged them and then somehow ended up here. Seth Lerch has a soft spot for the mentally challenged.
Through the pouring rain my fun for the night was spotted laying half way over the curb, hands bound behind his back with rope and feet tightly wrapped together. Despite his broken state he appeared to be breathing. Damn. No fuss. I had even more fun this way. Once the car stopped I quickly made my way out, opening the backseat door, scooping ‘Logan’ up into my arms and shoving him inside. Noob Cha-Cha never once lied to me. She promised Logan would be here just the way he was. She told me that earlier in the day right after a chew up a couple Pall Reds. I peered in the rear view, my eyes finding his helpless beaten body. He’d be out for hours. Finding the urge to perform natural bodily functions, I ended up parked outside McDonalds and scurried in to use the ladies restroom. After performing such private tasks, I sat my purse down on the sink counter and added a new layer of shadow over my lids. Prosthetic beauty had only recently found this naturally sweetened face. The transition was quite sudden, literally one of those days where you simply wake up, look in a mirror, and begin a routine never before committed. The look I did not mind. It really enlightened the terrific features of my face. And like a butterfly the change was now permanent. Another visitor casually walked into the restroom and sat her purse down next to mine. I felt her eyes glancing at me while he looked in the mirror and added more cake to her face. Who the fuck cared what they looked like at McDonalds? Well… I was doing the same thing, so, ah.. call me a desperate one too. The one dreaming of her Price serenading me with a double cheeseburger. The stranger broke silence.
Woman: You do know this is the ladies bathroom.
Seemingly confused by this it led me into making a three sixty degree look of my surroundings. Well of course this was the ladies bathroom! What was this bitch’s deal?
Sarah Twilight: Uh.. yes.
Pretending to ignore her I continued to apply the sea blue shadow above my eye. She sat her purse back down and turned to me in a flustered manner.
Woman: I’m trying to be nice.
Sarah Twilight: Oh? Because I’m a little confused here.
Woman: This bathroom is for women only. Can you please leave?
No she didn’t. I turned to her, flipping my long flowing red hair, feeling a sassy bone twitch within me.
Sarah Twilight: What the fuck do you think I am you ugly chicken nugget eating whore?
Woman: Okay…
She began backing away.
Woman: I’m calling the police.
Sarah Twilight: Call THIS.
God help me. It was uncontrollable. Something deep inside me urged a reaction after that, a hidden voice calling on me to thrust my hips. I did not. Instead I grabbed the woman by her head and thrust her face into the bathroom mirror. Before she could get up and say Big Mac, I was gone.
Dean Walker watched Sarah Twilight exit McDonald’s in a hurry and head back to his car. He could have sworn he seen Sarah stop and maybe pick someone up, though he could not be sure. He wished he would have checked the car when Sarah was inside McDonald’s doing whatever he was doing. He didn’t appear to have come out with a bag, so maybe he used the bathroom. That made him wonder which bathroom it was that Sarah Twilight picked; the men’s or ladies?
The rain began to die down making driving a bit more easily. Logan had still yet to awake. Didn’t bother me. The bastard could sleep forever. I did not know exactly what Noob Cha-Cha intended to do with him other than the fact she wanted him back at the house. Which is where I headed. Back on the road I killed some more time.
Sarah Twilight: What are you supposed to say about a curtain jerker like Tommy Kain? He’s nobody to me. The least of my worries in this match. Generic refuses to get anymore generic than him. He has murdered the word itself. It’s the people like that have no true aspirations in life or this company. They just sit around and wait for things to happen. Tommy Kain is nothing more than glorified Slam filler. Someone to throw into a match if you need a clusterfuck. I don’t know you, Tommy, but I hate you. I hate you for what you are. Your name being billed on this match with me alone makes me hate you. It makes my stomach twist into knots until vomiting is the only option to rid the Kain stomach virus. WCF is rather famous for finding unique personalities and letting them shine, so what the fuck was Seth thinking when he signed you? We were already skipping down Generic Street with Jay Price. Do we really need more of you boring fucks? No, no, no. I hope you yourself can recognize a filler match when you see one. This could have been perfectly fine being a three-way. Now the world and I have to deal with you. A Kain-less match could’ve been great. Thanks a lot, Tommy. Thanks for ruining what could have a classic Slam showdown. Thanks for being the extra asshole of WCF. Thanks for being Tommy Kain. Glad you can be here. Because apparently there isn’t enough boring fucks running around this company. WCF needed Tommy Kain to make that extra ass or two numb and force sleep on a few more fans.
May have continued the sarcasm with an applaud if I hadn’t been driving. Reaching the house and cutting the engine, I gave myself a moment to study how beautiful it looked with the aftermath of a storm. Little last drops of rain rolled off the roof and onto the ground. Even at this time of night you could hear the birds retreating from the cover to pluck the fresh damp soil of its worms. A wonderful night for this. Despite Logan’s size he felt light as a feather when I dragged him out of the backseat, his booted feet lifelessly edging over the curbs edge and heels trailing down the sidewalk. He did look like death had met him despite the fact his chest was heaving in and expanding out. Deciding against taking his muddy body through the house, it seemed like a more logical option to go around the side and abandoned him somewhere out back. Afterall, I had no clue what Noob Cha-Cha wanted to do with him anyway.
Sarah Twilight’s car parked out front of his house and he climbed out of the driver’s seat after a moment or two. The rain had stopped now and made Dean’s vision much sharper than before. Sarah began pulling an old filthy rolled up carpet out of the backseat and started dragging it up the sidewalk. What the hell did he want with that? It looked trashy, like something you would find thrown out on the front of someone’s house. Is that what Sarah Twilight stopped and picked up earlier? Within a safe distance, Dean continued to watch the oddness. He could there was nothing inside the carpet, that he was sure of. It was too small to conceal anything, much less a body. Maybe now Dean Walker was really beginning to think Logan really was off his rocker. Who went out at night in the rain and picked up garbage to take home? Yes. One man’s junk can be another man’s treasure, but this carpet had definitely worn out its welcome for anyone’s home. Even the most desperate homeless would turn their nose to this. And let’s not forget who Logan was. Surely Seth Lerch was paying him enough that he didn’t need to resort to this for home décor additions. Once Sarah Twilight disappeared from behind the house, Dean decided it was time to get a little closer. He stepped out of his driver’s door and into a puddle, creeping down low and pushing towards Sarah’s lawn. A door behind the house opened and closed for his ears. The noise was too quick in succession for someone to pull a carpet through. Maybe he left it outside. Curiously enough Dean wanted to check the carpet to see if anything lay inside. He was pretty sure there wasn’t, but a check wouldn’t hurt. Sarah obviously had some reason for going out to pick it up and hauling it back here. On the side of the house, peeking around the corner of it and into the backyard, lightening cracked in the black skies, and for a moment he thought he spotted a man lying on the wet ground. Nope. Just the carpet. Lightning struck again impending a return of the storm. Being outside like this during a storm like this made him nervous. His mind drifted to horrible memories; memories of finding his charred Father behind that hill with dark smoke lifting from his body. The back door opened.
I went back outside to snatch Logan after a quick drink. He was just where I had left him. Moving onto him, I lifted his soaking trembling body up and placed him over my shoulder. He was so light. Or maybe those Pall Reds were increasing my strength?
Dean watched Sarah return to the carpet and sling it over his shoulder. Lightening roared again, and in an uncontrolled move of panic Dean jumped and slid backwards into the mud falling out from behind the corner of the house. He hoped Sarah hadn’t become aware of his presence, but when he looked up… Sarah was looking back at him.
Perhaps it was the Pall Red. I easily carried Logan across the yard and just when I began to hit the porch steps a figure revealed himself from the side of the house, falling onto his back and looking over to me. I kept Logan over my shoulder and addressed the stranger.
Sarah, not opting to release the carpet despite Dean’s sudden appearance, made a vicious glare into his direction. A look of pure rage. Dean felt terrified by it.
Sarah Twilight: Do I know you?
Dean Walker: Uh, maybe…
He idly shrugged the carpet off his shoulder and kicked it once it hit the ground. The kick itself was hateful. Dean managed to get back to his feet, hoping that his own body wouldn’t meet Sarah’s boot.
Sarah Twilight: Either I do or I don’t.
Dean Walker: My name is Dean.
He waited to see if that name rang any bells with Sarah. It should have. He and Logan had known each other for years.
Sarah Twilight: I’ve seen you looking at him. You’re here for Logan aren’t you?
Sarah glanced at the carpet and then back to Dean.
Dean Walker: I am here for Logan.
For some reason he knew that made sense two different ways for them judging by the way Sarah treated that carpet. Dean was here for Logan, the person he was staring at in drag. A seemingly dangerous smile lit up on Sarah’s face.
Sarah Twilight: Oh, Oblivion. I’m honestly flattered. He sent you here to rescue Logan and ruin my fun didn’t he? What a good sport. It’s hard to find amusing people such as him these days that are willing to play.
Dean Walker: Oblivion? No. He didn’t send me.. I’m here for you.
Sarah Twilight: Me? Well, well, well. You’re a brave one.
Sarah cracked his knuckles and began to approach. Even in the darkness I could see his long nails slide with one another when his fingers intertwined and produced a crack. I suddenly got the feeling that Sarah took here for you not quite the way that I meant it.
He was something else. I secretly knew that he wanted to take Logan away. The fool had been eyeballing him half the time we were talking. He wasn’t here for me. If he hadn’t have slipped in the mud and exposed himself, no doubt he would have snuck up on me later or tried to get Logan and slip away undetected. His eyes began filling with fear after I cracked my knuckles and reached behind my pants retracting a knife. That was more than enough to scare him. ‘Dean’, if that were really his name, took off faster than the bolt of lightning striking in the night sky.
Sarah Twilight: Heh.
Bringing Logan into the house and dropping on to the floor like originally intended, the rest of the night went by quick. I resumed my couch queendom, glancing at Logan from time to time but he never woke. He was bound anyway. Rolled up tight as a carpet. He couldn’t get to me if I were a giant hotdog. Feeling the security of that thought, I closed my eyes and went to sleep. Waking that morning I wondered if Noob Cha-Cha had ever returned home last night. Stretching to my feet and heading to check her room I nearly tripped over Logan who had yet to move. Wait? Where was Logan? A carpet lay in his place. Dean appeared clumsier than he was sneaky. No way he came in here last night and got to Logan. And if he didn’t why would he leave this filthy carpet behind? Some kind of joke? I called out Noob Cha-Cha’s name in disappointment, hoping that she would not be mad that I let Logan go.
Sarah Twilight: Cha-Cha?
My voice bounced off the walls and echoed within the house. No response to her name.
Sarah Twilight: Nooby Noobster?
Nothing in this house besides me. I took to the kitchen cabinet to chew up my morning dose of Pall Red. Not even seconds after the fifth tablet crawled down my stomach did I hear breathing coming from the living room. Despite not hearing her enter I hoped it was Noob Cha-Cha. Instead what I found was more of a surprise… Logan. No carpet. Just Logan. Laid out on the exact spot as well. As if the two had transformed overnight and then just transformed again. This should be about the time that I made the hallucination connections to Pall Red, and I did, but I wanted more of it. It helped. I don’t know the reason. I just needed it. Rushing back to the source and crunching up a few more tablets into my mouth was about the time the walls began to melt. Paint bubbled and oozed down dripping onto the hardwood floor. Beautiful. Orgasmic. It was like watching Van Gogh go to work right before my eyes. I ate another Pall Red. And another. Reality no longer existed. Not here.
Logan: Babygurl, babygurl, babygurl…
Logan, spinning a cane into his hand, tiptoed across the melting floor and I frolicked over into his arms to embrace him.
Logan: Easy there. You wouldn’t want to get THIS all worked up.
His hips thrust forward. He kept them there, leaned out. I backed away from our embrace smiling as he undid his zipper and Seth Lerch’s head crept out from the opening.
Seth Lerch: Howdy, Sarah.
Bending down and kissing Seth on the cheek. Logan didn’t seem to mind this, he stood in place and patiently let Seth’s head lean out of his crotch.
Sarah Twilight: It’s been so long.
Seth Lerch: You haven’t been around much.
Sarah Twilight: After Jonny Fly.. you know, I needed some time for a little soul searching.
Seth Lerch: Not that. You know what I mean.
Overwhelming sadness covered me and I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble.
Sarah Twilight: It’s you and I… isn’t it?
Logan did a pelvic thrust which in turn forced Seth to slowly nod his head in agreement.
Seth Lerch: Yes.
Sarah Twilight: We used to talk every day. Every single day.
Seth Lerch: You changed. Got too busy for me.
Sarah Twilight: No! Just the opposite. You changed and got too busy for me.
Seth Lerch: Nu-uh.
Sarah Twilight: Yah-uh.
Logan: SHUT UP… you two.
I watched Logan push Seth’s face back into his pants before zipping them up. I waved to Seth as he departed me, blowing him a kiss goodbye. The world around me was too great to handle at this point, too difficult to continue being a part of. When it began engulfing in flames, Logan as well meeting a fiery demise, I lifted my hand to my temple to mimicked that of a gun, clamping the metaphoric trigger of my thumb down, body going backwards onto the floor and falling dead asleep.