Hardcore Series: Cheeseburger Genocide (RP #1)
Jul 16, 2014 21:53:16 GMT -5
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Post by Logan on Jul 16, 2014 21:53:16 GMT -5
Note: This televised promo was produced and written by Logan for the sole entertainment of WCF's fans. Hired actors portray different roles, the promo itself is mostly scripted, special effects along with cutting edge CGI are also on display, and no one is ever seriously hurt... or killed.
Somewhere in the middle of somewhere held a big name joint named Club Violet. The purple neon lights above entrance doors flashed, attracting every young and horny soul as if they were moths inside human bodies. One man, in particular, had been given a great degree of attention when he stepped onto the curb at the front of Club Violet. He was dressed, or was rather - a police officer. After waving a badge and repetitively making a point to the gun strapped on his hip, the door bouncer let him in. Once inside, the police officer withdrew the megaphone that had been in cover behind his back.
Police Officer: Ladies and tramps; tramps and ladies, pimps and folks - Club Violet is under official investigation, and therefor all current activities of Club Violet must cease to exist.
This rumbled a stir from the man upstairs, a stir from whomever Steve Orbit elected to watch over the place. He came from his box, a box view that gave him a sight to all the happenings in the club. The nicely dressed man in charge left his room overlooking the club, climbed down the stairs, while the dancers stopped their shaking and tooting to witness the encounter between a policemen and the man in charge.
Troy: Am I being punked? Did you Steve send you in here... haha, damn.
The police officer held the megaphone directly into Troy's face, thus erupting the mans ear drums.
Police Officer: Do I look anything like Ashton Kutcher? No. We've been watching this joint for weeks -
The man in charge while the boss was away, Troy, covered his ears and backed away from the policemen's shouts into the megaphone.
Police Officer: We know about the backroom handjobs, or as you call it... 'A Helping Violet Hand'. Don't you find it disturbing that a man would name a handjob after his dead Mother?
It was then that Troy noticed the inscription on the policemen's badge, which read 'Officer Hotdog'.
Troy: This has to be a joke. Wait... wait a minute...
He began to recognize this police officer.
Troy: You're that same guy that dressed up like a woman and wrecked the Golden Spa! You're - You're - Logan!
The police officer flung the officer's cap from his head, letting his dirty blonde hair spring to shambles. He reached for the gun on his hip and pushed it at Troy's face along with the megaphone.
Logan: You tell everyone to get out.
Troy: You're kidding me.
He cocked the trigger.
Troy: Okay, okay...
He turned from Logan and to the attention of the club; whom already had his attention.
Troy: Everyone please leave.
Nobody moved. Maybe it was from the unexpected event that had just occurred. Logan offered Troy his megaphone, which he took, all the while a gun poked into the back of his head.
Troy (with the megaphone): Club Violet is closing for the night. I'm sorry guys, you'll have to leave.
From behind, Logan leaned forward, whispering into Troy's ear and further instructing him. Troy sighed before continuing.
Troy (with the megaphone): And if a single cop shows up -
Logan: Other than me.
Troy (with the megaphone): Then I will be shot in the face.
Well, that got them going. Every pimp, hooker, skank, jank made like a Lilith and disappeared. After everyone's exit, Logan nudged the pistols barrel deeper into Troy's neck.
Logan: My megaphone, please.
He returned the equipment to it's rightful owner.
Troy: You're going to regret this. You just wait until Steve Orbit finds out about this shit.
He said to Logan whilst backing away towards the front doors.
Logan: And that's while you're staying, Troy, because I want Steve Orbit to hear about this... shit.
Directing Troy to sit down via gunpoint, Logan returned the megaphone to his mouth.
Logan: Make yourself comfortable. No reason to be so nervous.
Troy: I'm not a big fan of people pushing guns in my face.
Logan: It's only a water gun.
The eyebrows on Troy's face perked as he watched Logan aim the gun to the floor and spew out a few blasts of liquid.
Logan: See? All I did was spray paint it.
This obviously angered Troy, having being held hostage with a water gun, and having lost control of Orbit's club. He rose from the chair and stomped a path to Logan.
Logan: And, well, filled it with mace.
The burning hot substance flushed out Troy's eyes, forcing him to crumble onto the floor, hands clawing at his blinded sockets. Before kneeling down to Troy's side, Logan aimed the megaphone towards the front entrance door and threw a shout behind it.
Logan: Ladies!
He turned his attention back to the suffering Troy, who kicked, screamed, and punched at the floor while his eyes welted and weeped and oozed - behind them, the front door burst open with a frenzy of men in women's clothing; drag queens, essentially, and all sporting red wigs. Back on the floor, Troy had long passed out from the pain, having received a dangerous amount of that terrible burning liquid on his pupils. Troy's eyes had actually swollen shut, pus seeping from both corners. The drag queens brought the party back to life, hitting the stages, poles, and hiding out in the back rooms awaiting to hand out a rub or three.
Logan: And could someone please turn off Jay Z? This is Club Violet. We must honor Steve's poor old dead Mother a little more classier than Jay Z! Could someone please play this CD full of dirty punk white boy music that I in no way prearranged for a moment such as this?
He turned to the cameras lens and grinned - may've well just as winked.
Drag Queen: Certainly!
One of the red headed men sporting nothing more than bra, panties, and high heels, (hadn't even bothered to shave anything) shuffled over to Logan's side and took the CD from his hands over to the main DJ setup. Soon... "Chia-Like, I Shall Grow" by Say Anything blew out the speakers in Club Violet. Logan looked to the ceiling, as if somehow celebrating the memory of a person he never knew.
Logan: This is for you, Ms. Violet. All for you. I do hope I have made you proud.
He kissed two fingers and held them up, as did the rest of the drag queens in attendance, all honoring Steve Orbit's long gone Mother.
Logan: I'll take real good care of your boy this Sunday, Ms. Violet. Unfortunately though, this is the end of the rope for him. He has endured the pressure for far too long and it's time someone pops his balloon head. Don't worry. I'll do it. He'll finally have relief, you'll no longer have to look up from Hell and watch your only Son run around wearing animal skin and slapping poor innocent women. He himself may think he's a good person, but when you've heard what I just said... how is he? He takes advantage of the weak. He is nothing more than scum, sucking life out of the pure and soaking it all up for himself. Do you know what I am? Well do you? I am the weak. That's what I am. That's what I've made Steve Orbit and everyone else in WCF believe - that I am the little worn out guy in the corner who comes in to collect paychecks, goes home at night and waits by the phone to get the call not to come in tomorrow - we've found someone new - a replacement. Well, guess what, I BEAT TERRY ROBERTS!
He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The footage changed, revealing a shaky close up of Logan's ecstatic face, the camera bounced in his hands, like a bull he was clinging onto for dear life. He was obviously excited by whatever he was ready to reveal.
Logan: Steve! She's alive! You won't believe it man. She never died, no, no, she faked her death as well just like your little Father figure did. She can finally see Club Violet in the flesh, all the things I've done for her she can finally see for herself! Oh, how you'll thank me, Steve!
The footage turned to a old black woman in dirt stained clothes, dirt stained hair, riggity and raggity from head to green toe nails. She weakly looked up at the camera, not fully aware of the current event taking place.
Logan: Say hi, Mom.
She nodded. Maybe she was drunk. Or just out of it from the street life wearing her down all those years. Beneath her rags held skin and boats. A cancer patient four months into chemo had more meat on the bones than she did.
Logan: Aren't you the Mother of Steve Orbit?
Of course she wasn't.
"Violet": Stevie? My Stevie?
Maybe she actually had a Son named Steve? I'll be damned! She could've been bonkers just as well.
Logan: We've got to get you to Steve. He'll be so surprised and thrilled he might just hand me the World title and quit this whole wrestling business before someone like me hurts him.
"Violet": Stevie?
Logan: Ah, yes. But first we should get you something to eat and maybe a couple of showers.
He helped the frail woman to her feet and over to his car. In his passenger seat he already laid out some towels to separate her filth from the seats cushion, along with keeping her window rolled down, and the door unlocked just in case he couldn't take the smell and needed to kick her out immediately.
Logan: Off we go. Tell me, Violet, when is the last time you had yourself a meal?
"Violet": It's been a few days, suga.
Logan: Would you like one?
"Violet": Oh please, that would be so kind -
She reached over to Logan's belt buckle and began sinking her head down towards his crotch. He nudged her back.
Logan: Easy, Momma Orbit. No need for that. Unlike your Son, I am quite a generous man.
The two eventually reached their destination; a McDonald's. Pulling in the drivethrough and having reached the speaker box, Logan turned to the bum lady and asked her what she'd like.
"Violet": Pigs feet.
Logan: You got it.
He turned to the speaker box.
Logan: We'd like a five piece of chicken nuggets.
"Violet": M'm. M'm.
Once again she sunk down into Logan's crotch, he thought about letting Steve's Mother blow him off in the McDonald's drivethrough, after all he was getting her a five piece, but this woman probably had more viruses than he himself did - so again he pushed her away.
Logan: No thanks. Though I admit it would be such an honor to receive one from you. To the day pimps and hookers still chatter about that mouth of yours. You're something of a myth. Do you think if you birthed Steve Orbit and he was a female, that he would've grown by your side and become a next generation peter puffer?
They proceeded through the drivethrough.
Logan: Let's get honest. Yes, Violet, honesty time!
He playfully patted her on the leg which produced a cloud of dust.
Logan: You faked your own death to get away from that little brat didn't you?
"Violet": M'm. Been a long while now since I had me some good food.
Logan: I don't blame you. Hell, Steve probably wouldn't either. He gets it. I get it. You didn't want him, Violet, because you knew that no matter what you did he was going to grow up and become the person you are - a pig.
"Violet": M'm.
Logan: Pig in the metaphorical sense of course. What do you weigh, ninety, eighty pounds? You've probably swallowed more than that during your legendary time on the streets. Am I right?
He giggled, but a serious face back on once they reached the second window and it came time to pay. The McDonald's employee held out his hand, expecting money, and instead was handed a "Steve Orbit's Greatest Matches Vol. 1".
McDonald's Cashier: Um...
He snatched the DVD back from the cashier and let out a howl of laughter.
Logan: Haha! It's a joke, buddy. I know nobody is going to trade up five ground up mystery meat chicken nuggets for a DVD of Orbit. Here you are, good sir, (handing the cashier some cash) and please... get a sense of humor or I'll make a compliant to management next time.
He grabbed the bag of nuggets from the cashier and pulled forward. Violet licked at her dried lips while she watched Logan open the bag and remove the contents.
Logan: They call it chicken, they call their cheeseburgers; cheeseburgers, but do you really know what's in these things, Violet?
"Violet": M'mm.
Logan: Not a single thing that's good for YOU. I've got my youth. I can take it. You? You've got your health to worry about, Ms. Violet.
He popped one of the nuggets into his mouth. She groaned with agony - just at the smell of hot food. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate something that hadn't come from a dumpster that she didn't have to fight a cat for.
Logan: And the funniest thing is... I'm not even hungry.
He shoved the last three into his mouth and chewed them up all the while staring at her.
"Violet": Please, mister. I'm starving.
Logan: Duh. I've seen hotdogs rounder than those legs.
"Violet": Why you do this to me?
He was disgusted by her lack of appreciation.
Logan: They're terrible for you. Let's think of it as a lesson - a push in the right direction. I've done more for you than Steve Orbit ever has. Some Son he is. And, well, honestly... it's giving me a kick.
"Violet": Oh Lord.
Logan: Oh Lord is right. Tell me, Violet, do you love God?
"Violet": I praise Jesus.
Logan: Do you believe in miracles?
"Violet": M'm.
Logan: And if... no, sorry, Violet - when I kick your stinking rear out of my car while going over the speed limit, do you think Jesus will strike me done with a bolt of lightening, or cause me to immediately wreck?
"Violet": ...
Her fragile hands gripped at the seats cushion.
Logan: It's time to wake up and shake off the filth, Violet. Things like that don't happen. What is going to happen, however, is that when you go rolling down the concrete, maybe breaking every bone left in that little body of yours, and never getting the chance to have a reunion with your Son - I'll continue on my way, straight to New Jersey, rip the gold from his waist, and be awarded. No lightening. No bad karma. You know, for the sake of argument... let's try this out!
He reached forward next to her, she clawed at his hands as he pulled the handle springing the door open.
Logan: I was just kidding! Jesus, let go my arm... we might wreck!
And let go she did, just before getting a boot to her side that sent her through the opened door and out of the speeding car onto hard pavement. He closed the door and continued without a single drop of MPH. Upon a sigh of relief, he held onto the arm she had clawed, and he looked into the rear view mirror to watch another car's grill send her airborne.
Logan: Oh thank Jesus.
"Here lies Violet.
Mother of Steve Orbit.
Loved pigs feet.
A Whore."
Is precisely what I had etched on the tombstone of the REAL Ms. Violet's resting place. Used a portable diamond bladed saw to do it. The woman from before proved to be an afternoon amusement. I did the world a favor with that poor old girl. She was probably getting the best rest she had in years, a nurse was probably spoon feeding her jellow in her hospital bed as we speak, and no longer would she annoy people for pleas of spare change. But this, this grave site, this was Steve Orbit's Mother. She had never faked her death as I earlier suggested. The woman was simply dead. It made me think why would I disrespect the dead like this? Because I would've done the same if she were alive, and etching all those comments on a kicking and screaming body would've proved to be much more painful - I spared her pain. Since a young age I've learned the greatest way to anger someone is to begin with a simple joke... 'your momma'. I looked over to the lens of the camera and the man who joined along with me to hold it.
Logan: Your Momma, Steve Orbit, has one more trick left in her.
And that's exactly what I wanted - a Steve Orbit blowing steam out of his ears. I wanted him to watch this over and over, and if he wouldn't, I'd tie him down Clockwork Orange style and force him to. Why piss off such an opponent whom is already capable of kicking your ass - some may wonder? Because that's precisely what I wanted. I wanted the man to beat me blue, kick me when I was down, rip off my toe nails one by one. It wasn't for the fact that I may enjoy it; it was for the simple fact that whatever Steve Orbit was capable of doing to me... is nothing I haven't already taken, and that was what I wanted to show the world. That I could take Steve Orbit's very best, laugh it off, and come away with the grandest of all grand in WCF, the World Championship.
Logan: Let's get to it boys.
I made sure no one was around, paid the grounds keeper handsomely along with the grunts that began digging up Steve Orbit's dead Mother's grave site. And if you ever thought nobody had a price, just wait until you met Jones, the man paid to engage in sexual relations with a corpse. While they dug up the remains of Violet, I put my attention back to the camera and decided to have a word with Orbit before the action began.
Logan: You've sputtered along these last few months, Orbit. Facing thugs and wannabe rappers like Waylon Cash, and drunks who never had glory but hang onto every tiny bitsy accomplishment they've ever had like Jayson Price, and you even beat a man that took his wife's last name when they were married. What I'm trying to say, Steve Orbit, is who has truly tested you? Jayson... maybe? He's just a guy you feel sorry for. You and I both know you stayed down for that ten count just so Price wouldn't go off on a ragequit when you properly defeated him. You made him look good, but you knew you'd keep the belt. That's smart. It's what I like about you, Steve Orbit, you're a clever man. But as I was saying... when have you ever been truly tested? Seth Lerch himself said no one here is a credible champion until they've defended a championship against yours truly. I don't fully understand why he said that nor do I fully understand why I have suddenly been bestowed a championship match after beating the likes of Terry Roberts - I guess that's what gets you to the top these days. But listen to me, Orbit, let's just be honest for a moment. I'm the hurricane in your championship path, the one you aren't able to drive around - the one you have to go through. And do you know what separates me from all those other so called top quality goons? I don't even care if you win! It's not laziness or a lack of pride. I am simply in this match because I am - because even if paying a man to rape your Mother's corpse does drive you to the point of beating me into defeat - I will have had my own personal victory. I guess what I am driving at, Steve, is that I am quite different... I honestly think I'm the only sane person among this entire company, and that's what I want to prove, that if THIS angers you, that if THIS fills you to the brim with rage after Jonesy here fills your Mother, then I am indeed the rare breed. Because quite frankly it wouldn't phase me, I mean, come on... Steve. She's dead. If you hadn't gotten over it by now maybe this'll help? And this even furthers my point, because Steve, you can pin these shoulders to the ring, but there is nothing, truly nothing you can do to ever break me. You? That's all I want out of this. I just want to show everyone how easy it can be to ruin someone, and you know what - rather or not you like the outcome - I'm probably going to be strolling out of New Jersey with your championship. Just think about it. It's more than simply a possibility. Day by day we both know it's boiling up to become fact.
The clunk of a shovel hitting something more solid than earth caught my ears.
Logan: Sounds like we're almost there.
Excitement hit me like an electric shock, ran through my veins, down to the toes, it was difficult not to literally dance over to the grave, but I did, and peered down into the hole to see none other than a decrepit casket.
Logan: Oh, Steve, look at that! Are you seeing this? The legendary Violet's resting place. Your Mother's tomb!
Two of the diggers cracked the lid. The smell forced the cameraman and therefor the footage to turn away. I, however, did not - the smile on my face couldn't have been any wider. She was buried with eighties hip-hop fashion, a gold clock necklace. Must have.
Logan: Let me see that!
One of the boys reached inside Violet's tomb to remove her jewelry, specifically the necklace I asked him to retrieve. He handed it to me. Now this was some bling-bling, even if it was from Steve Orbit's dead Mother, all it needed was a bit of dusting. I hung the clock necklace around my neck for the remainder of the promo.
Logan: Thanks for the bling, Ms. Violet. You see, Steve, I'm a respectful person... even of the dead. Now where is Jonesy? He's got a corpse to fuck!
The mountain man with seven missing teeth and breath full of nasty, Jonesy, whom I had paid a months of booze worth to, climbed down into the hole with a massive grin on his face displaying his black remaining teeth. I didn't stay for the show, neither did the cameraman, instead opting to walk away from the grave with a smile of my own while the grunts and moans of Jonesy filled my ears.
Somewhere in the middle of somewhere held a big name joint named Club Violet. The purple neon lights above entrance doors flashed, attracting every young and horny soul as if they were moths inside human bodies. One man, in particular, had been given a great degree of attention when he stepped onto the curb at the front of Club Violet. He was dressed, or was rather - a police officer. After waving a badge and repetitively making a point to the gun strapped on his hip, the door bouncer let him in. Once inside, the police officer withdrew the megaphone that had been in cover behind his back.
Police Officer: Ladies and tramps; tramps and ladies, pimps and folks - Club Violet is under official investigation, and therefor all current activities of Club Violet must cease to exist.
This rumbled a stir from the man upstairs, a stir from whomever Steve Orbit elected to watch over the place. He came from his box, a box view that gave him a sight to all the happenings in the club. The nicely dressed man in charge left his room overlooking the club, climbed down the stairs, while the dancers stopped their shaking and tooting to witness the encounter between a policemen and the man in charge.
Troy: Am I being punked? Did you Steve send you in here... haha, damn.
The police officer held the megaphone directly into Troy's face, thus erupting the mans ear drums.
Police Officer: Do I look anything like Ashton Kutcher? No. We've been watching this joint for weeks -
The man in charge while the boss was away, Troy, covered his ears and backed away from the policemen's shouts into the megaphone.
Police Officer: We know about the backroom handjobs, or as you call it... 'A Helping Violet Hand'. Don't you find it disturbing that a man would name a handjob after his dead Mother?
It was then that Troy noticed the inscription on the policemen's badge, which read 'Officer Hotdog'.
Troy: This has to be a joke. Wait... wait a minute...
He began to recognize this police officer.
Troy: You're that same guy that dressed up like a woman and wrecked the Golden Spa! You're - You're - Logan!
The police officer flung the officer's cap from his head, letting his dirty blonde hair spring to shambles. He reached for the gun on his hip and pushed it at Troy's face along with the megaphone.
Logan: You tell everyone to get out.
Troy: You're kidding me.
He cocked the trigger.
Troy: Okay, okay...
He turned from Logan and to the attention of the club; whom already had his attention.
Troy: Everyone please leave.
Nobody moved. Maybe it was from the unexpected event that had just occurred. Logan offered Troy his megaphone, which he took, all the while a gun poked into the back of his head.
Troy (with the megaphone): Club Violet is closing for the night. I'm sorry guys, you'll have to leave.
From behind, Logan leaned forward, whispering into Troy's ear and further instructing him. Troy sighed before continuing.
Troy (with the megaphone): And if a single cop shows up -
Logan: Other than me.
Troy (with the megaphone): Then I will be shot in the face.
Well, that got them going. Every pimp, hooker, skank, jank made like a Lilith and disappeared. After everyone's exit, Logan nudged the pistols barrel deeper into Troy's neck.
Logan: My megaphone, please.
He returned the equipment to it's rightful owner.
Troy: You're going to regret this. You just wait until Steve Orbit finds out about this shit.
He said to Logan whilst backing away towards the front doors.
Logan: And that's while you're staying, Troy, because I want Steve Orbit to hear about this... shit.
Directing Troy to sit down via gunpoint, Logan returned the megaphone to his mouth.
Logan: Make yourself comfortable. No reason to be so nervous.
Troy: I'm not a big fan of people pushing guns in my face.
Logan: It's only a water gun.
The eyebrows on Troy's face perked as he watched Logan aim the gun to the floor and spew out a few blasts of liquid.
Logan: See? All I did was spray paint it.
This obviously angered Troy, having being held hostage with a water gun, and having lost control of Orbit's club. He rose from the chair and stomped a path to Logan.
Logan: And, well, filled it with mace.
The burning hot substance flushed out Troy's eyes, forcing him to crumble onto the floor, hands clawing at his blinded sockets. Before kneeling down to Troy's side, Logan aimed the megaphone towards the front entrance door and threw a shout behind it.
Logan: Ladies!
He turned his attention back to the suffering Troy, who kicked, screamed, and punched at the floor while his eyes welted and weeped and oozed - behind them, the front door burst open with a frenzy of men in women's clothing; drag queens, essentially, and all sporting red wigs. Back on the floor, Troy had long passed out from the pain, having received a dangerous amount of that terrible burning liquid on his pupils. Troy's eyes had actually swollen shut, pus seeping from both corners. The drag queens brought the party back to life, hitting the stages, poles, and hiding out in the back rooms awaiting to hand out a rub or three.
Logan: And could someone please turn off Jay Z? This is Club Violet. We must honor Steve's poor old dead Mother a little more classier than Jay Z! Could someone please play this CD full of dirty punk white boy music that I in no way prearranged for a moment such as this?
He turned to the cameras lens and grinned - may've well just as winked.
Drag Queen: Certainly!
One of the red headed men sporting nothing more than bra, panties, and high heels, (hadn't even bothered to shave anything) shuffled over to Logan's side and took the CD from his hands over to the main DJ setup. Soon... "Chia-Like, I Shall Grow" by Say Anything blew out the speakers in Club Violet. Logan looked to the ceiling, as if somehow celebrating the memory of a person he never knew.
Logan: This is for you, Ms. Violet. All for you. I do hope I have made you proud.
He kissed two fingers and held them up, as did the rest of the drag queens in attendance, all honoring Steve Orbit's long gone Mother.
Logan: I'll take real good care of your boy this Sunday, Ms. Violet. Unfortunately though, this is the end of the rope for him. He has endured the pressure for far too long and it's time someone pops his balloon head. Don't worry. I'll do it. He'll finally have relief, you'll no longer have to look up from Hell and watch your only Son run around wearing animal skin and slapping poor innocent women. He himself may think he's a good person, but when you've heard what I just said... how is he? He takes advantage of the weak. He is nothing more than scum, sucking life out of the pure and soaking it all up for himself. Do you know what I am? Well do you? I am the weak. That's what I am. That's what I've made Steve Orbit and everyone else in WCF believe - that I am the little worn out guy in the corner who comes in to collect paychecks, goes home at night and waits by the phone to get the call not to come in tomorrow - we've found someone new - a replacement. Well, guess what, I BEAT TERRY ROBERTS!
He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The footage changed, revealing a shaky close up of Logan's ecstatic face, the camera bounced in his hands, like a bull he was clinging onto for dear life. He was obviously excited by whatever he was ready to reveal.
Logan: Steve! She's alive! You won't believe it man. She never died, no, no, she faked her death as well just like your little Father figure did. She can finally see Club Violet in the flesh, all the things I've done for her she can finally see for herself! Oh, how you'll thank me, Steve!
The footage turned to a old black woman in dirt stained clothes, dirt stained hair, riggity and raggity from head to green toe nails. She weakly looked up at the camera, not fully aware of the current event taking place.
Logan: Say hi, Mom.
She nodded. Maybe she was drunk. Or just out of it from the street life wearing her down all those years. Beneath her rags held skin and boats. A cancer patient four months into chemo had more meat on the bones than she did.
Logan: Aren't you the Mother of Steve Orbit?
Of course she wasn't.
"Violet": Stevie? My Stevie?
Maybe she actually had a Son named Steve? I'll be damned! She could've been bonkers just as well.
Logan: We've got to get you to Steve. He'll be so surprised and thrilled he might just hand me the World title and quit this whole wrestling business before someone like me hurts him.
"Violet": Stevie?
Logan: Ah, yes. But first we should get you something to eat and maybe a couple of showers.
He helped the frail woman to her feet and over to his car. In his passenger seat he already laid out some towels to separate her filth from the seats cushion, along with keeping her window rolled down, and the door unlocked just in case he couldn't take the smell and needed to kick her out immediately.
Logan: Off we go. Tell me, Violet, when is the last time you had yourself a meal?
"Violet": It's been a few days, suga.
Logan: Would you like one?
"Violet": Oh please, that would be so kind -
She reached over to Logan's belt buckle and began sinking her head down towards his crotch. He nudged her back.
Logan: Easy, Momma Orbit. No need for that. Unlike your Son, I am quite a generous man.
The two eventually reached their destination; a McDonald's. Pulling in the drivethrough and having reached the speaker box, Logan turned to the bum lady and asked her what she'd like.
"Violet": Pigs feet.
Logan: You got it.
He turned to the speaker box.
Logan: We'd like a five piece of chicken nuggets.
"Violet": M'm. M'm.
Once again she sunk down into Logan's crotch, he thought about letting Steve's Mother blow him off in the McDonald's drivethrough, after all he was getting her a five piece, but this woman probably had more viruses than he himself did - so again he pushed her away.
Logan: No thanks. Though I admit it would be such an honor to receive one from you. To the day pimps and hookers still chatter about that mouth of yours. You're something of a myth. Do you think if you birthed Steve Orbit and he was a female, that he would've grown by your side and become a next generation peter puffer?
They proceeded through the drivethrough.
Logan: Let's get honest. Yes, Violet, honesty time!
He playfully patted her on the leg which produced a cloud of dust.
Logan: You faked your own death to get away from that little brat didn't you?
"Violet": M'm. Been a long while now since I had me some good food.
Logan: I don't blame you. Hell, Steve probably wouldn't either. He gets it. I get it. You didn't want him, Violet, because you knew that no matter what you did he was going to grow up and become the person you are - a pig.
"Violet": M'm.
Logan: Pig in the metaphorical sense of course. What do you weigh, ninety, eighty pounds? You've probably swallowed more than that during your legendary time on the streets. Am I right?
He giggled, but a serious face back on once they reached the second window and it came time to pay. The McDonald's employee held out his hand, expecting money, and instead was handed a "Steve Orbit's Greatest Matches Vol. 1".
McDonald's Cashier: Um...
He snatched the DVD back from the cashier and let out a howl of laughter.
Logan: Haha! It's a joke, buddy. I know nobody is going to trade up five ground up mystery meat chicken nuggets for a DVD of Orbit. Here you are, good sir, (handing the cashier some cash) and please... get a sense of humor or I'll make a compliant to management next time.
He grabbed the bag of nuggets from the cashier and pulled forward. Violet licked at her dried lips while she watched Logan open the bag and remove the contents.
Logan: They call it chicken, they call their cheeseburgers; cheeseburgers, but do you really know what's in these things, Violet?
"Violet": M'mm.
Logan: Not a single thing that's good for YOU. I've got my youth. I can take it. You? You've got your health to worry about, Ms. Violet.
He popped one of the nuggets into his mouth. She groaned with agony - just at the smell of hot food. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate something that hadn't come from a dumpster that she didn't have to fight a cat for.
Logan: And the funniest thing is... I'm not even hungry.
He shoved the last three into his mouth and chewed them up all the while staring at her.
"Violet": Please, mister. I'm starving.
Logan: Duh. I've seen hotdogs rounder than those legs.
"Violet": Why you do this to me?
He was disgusted by her lack of appreciation.
Logan: They're terrible for you. Let's think of it as a lesson - a push in the right direction. I've done more for you than Steve Orbit ever has. Some Son he is. And, well, honestly... it's giving me a kick.
"Violet": Oh Lord.
Logan: Oh Lord is right. Tell me, Violet, do you love God?
"Violet": I praise Jesus.
Logan: Do you believe in miracles?
"Violet": M'm.
Logan: And if... no, sorry, Violet - when I kick your stinking rear out of my car while going over the speed limit, do you think Jesus will strike me done with a bolt of lightening, or cause me to immediately wreck?
"Violet": ...
Her fragile hands gripped at the seats cushion.
Logan: It's time to wake up and shake off the filth, Violet. Things like that don't happen. What is going to happen, however, is that when you go rolling down the concrete, maybe breaking every bone left in that little body of yours, and never getting the chance to have a reunion with your Son - I'll continue on my way, straight to New Jersey, rip the gold from his waist, and be awarded. No lightening. No bad karma. You know, for the sake of argument... let's try this out!
He reached forward next to her, she clawed at his hands as he pulled the handle springing the door open.
Logan: I was just kidding! Jesus, let go my arm... we might wreck!
And let go she did, just before getting a boot to her side that sent her through the opened door and out of the speeding car onto hard pavement. He closed the door and continued without a single drop of MPH. Upon a sigh of relief, he held onto the arm she had clawed, and he looked into the rear view mirror to watch another car's grill send her airborne.
Logan: Oh thank Jesus.
HARDCORE SERIES: CHEESEBURGER GENOCIDE
"Here lies Violet.
Mother of Steve Orbit.
Loved pigs feet.
A Whore."
Is precisely what I had etched on the tombstone of the REAL Ms. Violet's resting place. Used a portable diamond bladed saw to do it. The woman from before proved to be an afternoon amusement. I did the world a favor with that poor old girl. She was probably getting the best rest she had in years, a nurse was probably spoon feeding her jellow in her hospital bed as we speak, and no longer would she annoy people for pleas of spare change. But this, this grave site, this was Steve Orbit's Mother. She had never faked her death as I earlier suggested. The woman was simply dead. It made me think why would I disrespect the dead like this? Because I would've done the same if she were alive, and etching all those comments on a kicking and screaming body would've proved to be much more painful - I spared her pain. Since a young age I've learned the greatest way to anger someone is to begin with a simple joke... 'your momma'. I looked over to the lens of the camera and the man who joined along with me to hold it.
Logan: Your Momma, Steve Orbit, has one more trick left in her.
And that's exactly what I wanted - a Steve Orbit blowing steam out of his ears. I wanted him to watch this over and over, and if he wouldn't, I'd tie him down Clockwork Orange style and force him to. Why piss off such an opponent whom is already capable of kicking your ass - some may wonder? Because that's precisely what I wanted. I wanted the man to beat me blue, kick me when I was down, rip off my toe nails one by one. It wasn't for the fact that I may enjoy it; it was for the simple fact that whatever Steve Orbit was capable of doing to me... is nothing I haven't already taken, and that was what I wanted to show the world. That I could take Steve Orbit's very best, laugh it off, and come away with the grandest of all grand in WCF, the World Championship.
Logan: Let's get to it boys.
I made sure no one was around, paid the grounds keeper handsomely along with the grunts that began digging up Steve Orbit's dead Mother's grave site. And if you ever thought nobody had a price, just wait until you met Jones, the man paid to engage in sexual relations with a corpse. While they dug up the remains of Violet, I put my attention back to the camera and decided to have a word with Orbit before the action began.
Logan: You've sputtered along these last few months, Orbit. Facing thugs and wannabe rappers like Waylon Cash, and drunks who never had glory but hang onto every tiny bitsy accomplishment they've ever had like Jayson Price, and you even beat a man that took his wife's last name when they were married. What I'm trying to say, Steve Orbit, is who has truly tested you? Jayson... maybe? He's just a guy you feel sorry for. You and I both know you stayed down for that ten count just so Price wouldn't go off on a ragequit when you properly defeated him. You made him look good, but you knew you'd keep the belt. That's smart. It's what I like about you, Steve Orbit, you're a clever man. But as I was saying... when have you ever been truly tested? Seth Lerch himself said no one here is a credible champion until they've defended a championship against yours truly. I don't fully understand why he said that nor do I fully understand why I have suddenly been bestowed a championship match after beating the likes of Terry Roberts - I guess that's what gets you to the top these days. But listen to me, Orbit, let's just be honest for a moment. I'm the hurricane in your championship path, the one you aren't able to drive around - the one you have to go through. And do you know what separates me from all those other so called top quality goons? I don't even care if you win! It's not laziness or a lack of pride. I am simply in this match because I am - because even if paying a man to rape your Mother's corpse does drive you to the point of beating me into defeat - I will have had my own personal victory. I guess what I am driving at, Steve, is that I am quite different... I honestly think I'm the only sane person among this entire company, and that's what I want to prove, that if THIS angers you, that if THIS fills you to the brim with rage after Jonesy here fills your Mother, then I am indeed the rare breed. Because quite frankly it wouldn't phase me, I mean, come on... Steve. She's dead. If you hadn't gotten over it by now maybe this'll help? And this even furthers my point, because Steve, you can pin these shoulders to the ring, but there is nothing, truly nothing you can do to ever break me. You? That's all I want out of this. I just want to show everyone how easy it can be to ruin someone, and you know what - rather or not you like the outcome - I'm probably going to be strolling out of New Jersey with your championship. Just think about it. It's more than simply a possibility. Day by day we both know it's boiling up to become fact.
The clunk of a shovel hitting something more solid than earth caught my ears.
Logan: Sounds like we're almost there.
Excitement hit me like an electric shock, ran through my veins, down to the toes, it was difficult not to literally dance over to the grave, but I did, and peered down into the hole to see none other than a decrepit casket.
Logan: Oh, Steve, look at that! Are you seeing this? The legendary Violet's resting place. Your Mother's tomb!
Two of the diggers cracked the lid. The smell forced the cameraman and therefor the footage to turn away. I, however, did not - the smile on my face couldn't have been any wider. She was buried with eighties hip-hop fashion, a gold clock necklace. Must have.
Logan: Let me see that!
One of the boys reached inside Violet's tomb to remove her jewelry, specifically the necklace I asked him to retrieve. He handed it to me. Now this was some bling-bling, even if it was from Steve Orbit's dead Mother, all it needed was a bit of dusting. I hung the clock necklace around my neck for the remainder of the promo.
Logan: Thanks for the bling, Ms. Violet. You see, Steve, I'm a respectful person... even of the dead. Now where is Jonesy? He's got a corpse to fuck!
The mountain man with seven missing teeth and breath full of nasty, Jonesy, whom I had paid a months of booze worth to, climbed down into the hole with a massive grin on his face displaying his black remaining teeth. I didn't stay for the show, neither did the cameraman, instead opting to walk away from the grave with a smile of my own while the grunts and moans of Jonesy filled my ears.
