Post by DVS on Dec 5, 2014 2:39:24 GMT -5
Dan Van Slade left Missoula, Montana, with a new perception of hope. He mindfully imagined burning the city to the ground, but the idea never left his engine. The holidays were upon the Jolly Ole’Deviant, and it was apparent based on his nature that he’d have an entire agenda dedicated to anti-social douchebaggery. His past became an explosion in the sky like a firework. Sparks. Colors. A loud bang. Then it was over. He left it behind and moved on to the next big bang.
The WCF superstar met his agent, David, at the Missoula International Airport and took the next available flight to Las Vegas. Missoula International only offered a connection to Texas through Las Vegas, so the ole’dirty deviant would eventually have a brief layover in Sin City. It’s fortunately brief. Dan Van Slade and Las Vegas is a powerfully destructive combination that would result in some sort of brutal mental combustion.
Dan wore a Chicago Cubs baseball cap, and a pair of sunglasses. His greasy curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He maneuvers his way down the aisle and tries to bypass everybody. It’s a sloppy attempt to be incognito, and behind the Deviant’s atrocious checkered suit jacket is a t-shirt that reads: “YOUR OWN PERSONAL DEVIANT.” A play on the Depeche Mode classic. David, his agent, was not far behind, and spent some time exchanging a few words with the adorable stewardess that welcomed them. It’s apparent she wasn’t interested in his Matt Damon-esque looks and posh fetish for a colored Polo and khaki combination.
David and Dan stashed their carry-on and sit beside each other near the wing.
Dan Van Slade: David…
David: Yes?
David buckles his seat belt and tightens it. He looks curiously at Dan who is removing his sunglasses. Van Slade’s eyes are wide. He seems to be very concerned. He lowers his voice, and reveals the little known talent for impersonating Sean Connery.
Dan Van Slade: I think I saw a tan fella with a gem on his forehead. It was like a troll’s belly button, but on his forehead…I think it was a terrorist troll…
Dan puts his fingers near his mouth as if he’s biting his nails. He cringes and peers over his shoulder in fright.
David: Are you out of your God damned mind?
Dan ends his mockery and turns to David with a sincere grin.
Dan Van Slade: Absolutely.
David looks around the airplane to make certain nobody heard what Dan Van Slade had said. David looks with serious intent at his client.
David: Do you have any idea what could happen if anybody, and I mean anybody, heard what you just said? Just that word alone spells danger to the integrity of this flight. You can’t say shit like that. That crap has to be eliminated from the conversation starting right now.
Dan seems to have been impressed with what his agent vented. Van Slade looks to his right and ponders; he strokes his chin and then returns a glance at David.
Dan Van Slade: So, what you’re sayin’ is that if I asked a stewardess…
Dan turns to face the aisle and extends his arm just as a young brunette stewardess struts passed. She stops before Dan and smiles. Her elegant watermelon colored lipstick is complimented well with a dark shade of blue above the eyes. Dan winks, and adorably smiles.
Dan Van Slade: Miss, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to ask you a relatively serious question…
The stewardess slowly descends to a knee and listens contently to Dan’s inquiry.
Stewardess: Sure! What may I help you with?
Dan scans his index finger around the plane and then curiously ponders.
Dan Van Slade: About how many Sand -
David: MISS!
David interrupts his client and leans forward with an extremely large grin. Several beads of sweat roll down his forehead to create streams of perspiration in the creases above his eyes. The Stewardess seems intrigued, but mostly concerned with her current situation.
David: Yes, miss, can you get my friend here a vodka-tonic. I’ll take a Goose’n’Cranberry.
Dan Van Slade: Can I finish asking my question?
David looks angrily at Van Slade and responds sternly.
David: No.
He then returns a huge grin at the Stewardess.
David: If you don’t mind…
The Stewardess nonchalantly smiles and nods.
David: …we’ll need those drinks right away.
The stewardess stands. She still hasn’t decided what to think of the current events but she wears a smile regardless.
Stewardess: O…K. Gentlemen – just give me a moment!
Dan slowly and disappointingly shakes his head at David.
Dan Van Slade: This is a matter of life and death and you order me a vodka-tonic?
David sits back in his chair and wipes the sweat from his brow. He wipes his soaked hand on his leg. He takes a deep breath, grinds his teeth, and turns to Dan.
David: Shut the Hell up; just…shut the Hell up.
Dan leans back in his chair. He puts on his sunglasses, and then tips his baseball cap forward to cover his eyes.
Dan Van Slade: I’m just sayin’. I don’t want a vodka – tonic when I’m about to go Die Hard on a sum-bitch because he’s all about that barefoot-turban life. Should’ve gone train. Definitely should’ve hit the tracks, and hard.
David sighs and grabs a pair of white ear buds.
David: We’ll get there faster in the air.
Dan Van Slade: Let’s hope there isn’t the Pearly Gates. I’m not interested in my Judgment Day. Plus, I really like this Cubs hat and I’d hate for it to get all fucked up because some Camel -
David: SO HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE A NICE NAP!
David immediately smiles at Dan Van Slade. The elderly Asian woman across the aisle stares at them. David smiles back, and Dan Van Slade hasn’t moved a muscle from his currently position. The Asian lady smiles, still staring through the thins of her eyes, and nods. David waves, and then stressfully falls back in his seat.
Dan Van Slade: I just hope Jahani al-Reb isn’t our pilot.
The seat-belt light illuminates, and the bell sounds. David blankly stares up at it.
In this wilderness are signs for Rollback Prices and row after row of hearty consumerism. In the heart of the jungle are Dan Van Slade and his Agent, David, as they trek their shopping cart like a covered wagon through the maze of product like explorers of the Oregon Trail. This isn’t any great expedition. No - this is a brief shopping spree at the Saratoga Road Walmart Supercenter in Corpus Christi, Texas.
The men slowly glide through each aisle. Their eyes pan from shelf-to-shelf and they anticipate what deal they may find. It seems as if they’ve already found what they’re looking for. The blue shopping cart is filled to the rim with questionable items such as a few crowbars; saw blades, spindles of thick rope, screws, nails, ball-pin hammers, extension cords, duck tape and a laundry list of dangerous tools. He could be mistaken for a carpenter; or a sociopath.
A holiday radio station plays throughout supercenter. Rudolph, Frosty, Winter Wonderland, you name it – they’re even playing it in different languages to make up for the diverse nature of society.
It’s obvious that David is uneasy about the items they’re about to purchase. The men turn down an aisle decorated with an assortment of cliché table and desk lamps. Dan sees light bulbs hanging from hooks near the middle of the aisle and clears the entire rack. The shopping cart swells, and the lights layer the top of the weaponry mound. David slowly shakes his head as they continue their journey through the aisle and onto the next. David turns to Dan with concern.
David: OK, I get it. We’re not going Christmas shopping, but do you have to buy everything that’s meant to physically endanger somebody?
Dan reaches forward and pulls a 60 watt light bulb from its package. He places it above his head to symbolize having an epiphany. He smiles, and then tosses the bulb into the cart. He stares, lost in a daze, deep into the netherworld of a Christmas bitten conglomerate mad house.
Dan Van Slade: I have to live the part, Sir David.
David doesn’t seem to fully understand his client’s intentions.
David: I’m not sure I like the fact that you’ve won your way into contention for the hardcore title. It’s difficult for me to guarantee your safety. The Agency is shitting a cinder block over this; they’re not happy.
Dan nods and isn’t surprised. The men continue their journey through Walmart and they turn left down a large main aisle way littered with islands of bargains. Prices stand out in bold like billboards on a highway.
Dan Van Slade: That logic is fair. Unhappiness is the typical result of shitting cinder blocks.
David continues his rant as his eyes bounce back-and-forth from Kitchen Aid mixers to bean bag chairs. He adjusts the orchid colored collar of his polo and then brushes his well-groomed brown hair.
David: The fact of the matter is this – your contract is worth far too much for you to be involving yourself in no holds barred drama. Why don’t you get back to being the next best thing in professional wrestling and let Steve Orbit take out the trash?
Van Slade snickers and guides the cart passed clusters of anxious holiday shoppers. He quickly unzips his gray North Face jacket for comfort and reveals a self-promoting T-Shirt. The bold white text plainly reads: ‘CONSUMER DEVIANCE’. His long greasy hair whips back as he turns to David.
Dan Van Slade: Nah, this is too perfect, David. This is starting from the bottom. This is it; the trash collector. I’ve got a shopping cart arsenal that’s meant to level this company from the base, and the structure so poetically begins with one of the greatest WCF has to offer.
Dan returns focus toward shoppers aimlessly travelling the aisle; then back at David.
Dan Van Slade: I’m sure you’ve seen my Twitter?
David raises his brows and smirks.
David: I might be the only one.
Dan rolls his light blue eyes as the men take a left down a furniture aisle with a variety of recliners, tables, and wooden television activity trays.
Dan Van Slade: That’s neither here, nor there. I don’t think you’re seeing the big picture here. Let me also make it clear that I can give two healthy shits about my contract; I’m not one for being bound and I know it’s going to be a hassle in the future.
Dan catches glimpse of a rack displaying black wooden T.V. trays. He removes one of the small tables and holds it gracefully in his hands like wielding a steel chair. He studies it for a brief moment then looks passed it to speak confidently with his agent.
Dan Van Slade: You want the fact of the matter? Let me give it to you.
He bends forward to slide the wooden T.V. tray on the lower storage rack beneath the shopping cart. When he stands – he turns and removes another T.V. tray from the shelf rack; he continues to do this for two more trays but not without pausing to speak with David before placing them on the carts bottom storage shelf.
Dan Van Slade: Did you see what I did, Wednesday? That’s a rhetorical question. I took out half, half, of the competition. Three wins – in one match. I made the WCF Torneo Cibernetico in my first official match in the business. Now, let’s think of the possibilities here.
Dan Van Slade: I flew head first like an unpredictable missile into this promotion amongst a swarm of fresh talent. Wannabes, literally, and some of them just ask to have their asses kicked on a nightly basis. Guys in dresses, and former MMA scum who think they can step into my ring and act big? I’m proud to say that I’m a diamond in the roughest of rough. Can you see what I’m getting at?
David ponders, and lightly strokes his chin. Dan has finished storing the T.V. trays underneath the cart and stands; he cracks his neck to the left. David shrugs and acts indecisive. Dan smiles and returns to pilot the shopping cart.
Dan Van Slade: My modus operandi is artfully simple. I play the game. I do work, and I do what needs to be done. The WCF gave me the opportunity. They had the opportunity hanging like a pair of testicles at the end of a stick. So, I grabbed it by the balls.
An African American woman and her three children stroll passed but not without overhearing Van Slade’s latter statement. The tiny bulbous woman stops on a dime and her children pause to clutch onto the sides of her shopping cart filled with random assortments of off-brand food stuffs and Malt-O-Meal cereals. Dan and David ignore her and continue passed. The woman doesn’t have to say a word – her expression and demeanor make believe she’d have a dialect-ridden few words for the Filthy Rotten Deviant and his naïve agent.
Dan looks at David and nonchalantly continues.
Dan Van Slade: I’m not going to fuck around. I’m going to win; every day, at every show, and against everybody.
All eyes are on the journey before them as the cart takes a right hair-pin turn down another main aisle way. Flatscreen televisions light up the horizon as they march forward.
Dan Van Slade: It begins with the trash I collected on Wednesday, and it continues with my eyes set on derailing Steve Orbit. I’ve never refereed a match, but I’m certain it’ll be a burden to the Vapor Kings. That minor tributary of the saga is clearly a bonus.
They rush through one aisle and continue their weave and curl left down a lane cluttered with anything and everything necessary for business and home office. David seems concerned, and delivers more of his opinion.
David: It’s just an incredibly nonsensical way to begin your career. You’re already putting yourself at risk and you’ve been with the company less than a month.
Dan stops the cart and analyzes the many items before him; scissors, pencils, thumb tacks, etc. He happily glances at David and responds.
Dan Van Slade: That’s awesome.
His agent sighs, and continues.
David: I’ve got a vast vocabulary that better represents what’s at stake, and most of it’s not awesome. But, I’m not going to rely on that. I have faith that you’ll be all that you say you are. I know what you can do, but I suppose I didn’t give enough credit toward your capability to adapt.
Dan stops and takes a step back to analyze the shopping cart and its abundance of stuffs. The cart is busting at the sides; a heaping pile of anything useful in providing a proper beat down. He studies the engulfed vessel and slowly shakes his head. He strokes his chin, and glares.
Dan Van Slade: We’re gonna need a bigger cart.
He immediately returns to the mission at hand and disregards the setback. The shopping cart is back in full function, but only for a few feet once Dan eyes something he must deem necessary for conquest. He stops, but he’s capable of returning to conversation.
Dan Van Slade: I do what man does best. I adapt, and evolve. That’s what we’ll see on Sunday. There I’ll be – His Divine Deviance – at the epicenter of attention and the controller of destinies. God I’m good. The WCF wants me to beat The Mack. The world wants me to beat The Mack. They know what they’re doing. It’s as if the WCF is reading my mind, David! If I could just find the tits and vagina of this place then it’d be a match made in Heaven…
David seems rather delighted, and grins at his agent. David smirks, and then attempts to understand why they’ve stopped.
David: Right. You just have to get through Hardcore Alex.
Its obvious Dan doesn’t understand. His head tilts like a dog in a daze.
Dan Van Slade: I don’t get what you’re saying.
His actions are contagious once David responds with the same routine. Head tilt.
David: You have absolutely no idea, do you?
Van Slade leans forward and seems to have his sights set on the shelf containing rows, and stacks, of thumbtack packages. He shakes his head to indicate his uncertainty.
Dan Van Slade: None at all.
David is amazed by this, and softly laughs to himself. He slowly shakes his head, and shrugs his shoulders.
David: You and Alex square off, Sunday night. A few matches before you referee.
Dan grabs a package of thumbtacks and examines the item. He reads a few lines, and turns it over. He zooms in to read a fine print. He looks at David and shrugs.
Dan Van Slade: Well…fuck. Thanks, I guess? I appreciate the extra win?
It’s apparent by the ‘come on, man’ stare that David is giving him that Dan has to obviously explain himself. Van Slade stands, still with thumbtacks in hand.
Dan Van Slade: It’s simple, really. It’s a set-up, David.
He tosses the thumbtacks into the cart, and the box nearly slides off the swelling mound of product.
Dan Van Slade: They want me to be worn when I enforce that tag match.
He snaps his fingers.
Dan Van Slade: Those clever bastards. Life’s a bitch, man. But, I’m not going to complain about being handed a win.
David: I think you’re underestimating your opponent.
The thought makes Dan laugh.
Dan Van Slade: Which one might that be?
The laughter begins to fade as his Agent attempts to share logic with a man that thinks clearly in one direction. His concern is highlight through the tone of his voice as he reasons with Dan.
David: Hardcore Alex. He’s not going to be an easy win, Dan. He’s tough, and athletic. You never know – if he defeats you then this could be his golden ticket. Sometimes life works that way. Just when you think you’ve got it – suddenly you’ve given it to a person who wanted it more.
His Royal Deviousness is taken back. His eyes widen. He stares at David like a Black Woman who can’t believe what she just heard.
Dan Van Slade: You can take that talk somewhere else, buddy. Do you honestly believe that he could beat me? Didn’t you just say that you have faith in me? I should slap the uppity shit right out of you; but, instead – I’ll just act like you’re not trying to reason with this. Mmm-Hmm…
Dan snaps his fingers and then steps back in the cock pit of the shopping cart. He taps his fingers on the steering bar and waits as David responds.
David: That’s exactly what it was – I just wanted to reason with you. I know you’re smart, and I do have faith in you. I’m your agent, for Christ’s sake!
Dan raises an eyebrow and cheaply half-smirks.
Dan Van Slade: That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t break my ankles trying to slither passed through the grass – you slimy little snake.
Dan pushes the car several feet forward and bypasses items unnecessary for his pilgrimage through the Wrestling Championship Federation. David follows at his side.
David: Whatever, just do what you’ve gotta do. Forget Hardcore Alex. Beat him, get that crap over with and then move on to bigger and better things.
They stop, and Dan glares at a Walmart employee stocking a shelf that caps the end of the aisle. He turns to David and contently speaks.
Dan Van Slade: Well, yeah, I’m feeling like I’m about to Hulk out on a little guy and pretty much destroy his career in one fatal swoop.
David slowly inches his hand toward one of the many crowbars sticking out of the shopping cart. He seems as if he’s preparing himself for an onslaught, and Dan seems relatively confused as to what his Agent is doing. Van Slade looks at David as if he’s seen the biggest idiot in the world.
Dan Van Slade: Not you, ya’big dummy. I’m talking about that Hardcore Alex guy.
David backs off.
David: The Slickness?
The expression on Dan’s face has yet to fade.
Dan Van Slade: What? No, you jerk, that was the name of some idiots that he played beer pong with. Fuck, I’ve gotta fight a moron who still plays beer pong? Now I can see why Justin Sane flaked out. This is a righteous mess, my friend.
Van Slade focuses on the Walmart employee. The young worker is wearing a blue Walmart vest over top a black T-Shirt supporting the band ‘Rise Against’. His hair is a wiry mess, and his pants are so tight you can almost read the Hanes logo on the waistband of his briefs. Then again, one could definitely read the Hanes logo on the waistband. Even though the pants are far too tight for male comfort – he somehow manages the ability to let them sag half-passed his back end. His attire is topped off with a pair of high tops he raided from Journeys that are made to look like they’ve been vandalized by a street artist with a Batman fetish.
Dan clears his throat, and raises his arm.
Dan Van Slade: Excuse me…
The employee looks at Dan, and then David. He doesn’t seem too enthused about being confronted by customers. Dan points at the thumbtack box that’s clinging for dear-life on the edge of the shopping cart. The Walmart Employee hesitantly struts forward.
Dan Van Slade: This isn’t going to be enough thumbtacks. I’ll take every case you’ve got.
The worker stops in his tracks and awkwardly stares at the men before him.
Walmart Employee: Every case?
Dan lowers his brows and his eyes are piercing.
Dan Van Slade: Did I stutter?
The young man doesn’t seem to back down and interrogates.
Walmart Employee: Sir, may I ask what it is that you’re doing?
Van Slade takes a brief glance at his agent, and then laughs as he answers.
Dan Van Slade: What, you can’t tell by all the tools and household essentials that it’s obvious I’m building a house…?
The answer is not any good when there’s still more evidence before closure.
Walmart Employee: What about the cases of thumb tacks?
Dan slowly shakes his head, smacks his lips, and rolls his eyes. He acts as if the answer is clearly obvious.
Dan Van Slade: That’s simple. Every wall in the house is made of cork board. I have a bulletin board fetish.
The employee shrugs and then walks forward.
Walmart Employee: Fair enough.
He removes the walkie-talkie from its holster attached to his loosened belt and contacts another member of his team.
Walmart Employee: Candace – can you find me every case of thumbtacks in the warehouse? I’ve got a gentlemen purchasing all of them.
The worker treks passed Dan and David to begin his mission. Van Slade eases the shopping cart forward as he and David hear the incoming transmission from Candace as the helpful-but-curious employee fades into the distance.
Candace: All of them? Does this guy have a bulletin board fetish?
Dan and David exit the aisle, passing the leftovers of the young man’s side mission to stock, and they cross over the main aisle toward a lane specific to kitchen wares. David is curious, and turns to Dan.
David: Really? Building a house?
Dan smirks as they enter the kitchen aisle. He looks at David.
Dan Van Slade: A house of pain, bitch.
His attention turns to the rack of Orgreenic organic non-stick frying pans hanging on racks to his right.
Dan Van Slade: Oh, here we go.
The Ole’ Dirty Deviant slides a pan from its hook and studiously surveys it.
David: Really? You’re going to use an Orgreenic frying pan as a weapon?
Van Slade looks passed the pan and at his agent.
Dan Van Slade: On the contrary – I need it for my breakfast tomorrow.
He places the frying pan on a small mound that’s spatially randomized in the carts baby carrier. David nods and looks into the distance. Dan double takes a glance down the aisle, and is instantly sent into frenzy.
Dan Van Slade: Holy Freddy WHOA! Is that a Santa Clause costume next to an elf costume?
David slowly shakes his head. Dan sees a variety of Christmas costumes on display in the adjacent aisle across another main aisle-way.
David: Don’t you freakin’ dare…
Dan slowly, creepily, turns to David with a child-like grin. His eyes widen. He slowly nods.
Dan Van Slade: Oh…it’s on…
Dan and David bobbed and weaved through the aisles of Walmart and eventually needed another cart. Five cases of thumbtacks were organized and stacked to layer the second carts inside bottom. This extra cart contained more of what made up the first cart, and also included an Elf and Santa Clause costume. There were a few new items such as fishing tackle, lifting weights, canoe paddles, and Coleman mini propane tanks.
Their excursion came to an end in the self-checkout lane. The holidays brought shoppers into Walmart like a plague, and this made every lane of Walmart a line of woe and sadness. Dan and David’s two shopping carts filled with ridiculous items made it a burden for those waiting to make a transaction. There was a line of about fifteen deep behind the men as they scanned their items and listened to the female voice projected by the touch screen computer assisting them. Dan and David’s tunnel vision kept them from being conscious of all the boiling annoyance behind them.
The final item is scanned twenty minutes after the first, and it’s time for payment. Van Slade reaches behind him and places his hand into an empty back pocket. He then begins to pat himself down and search for his wallet. He pauses, and blankly stares at David.
Dan Van Slade: Darn.
David: What? What’s wrong?
Dan Van Slade: I forgot my wallet in my luggage. Can you pay for all of this?
David is shocked. His eyes widen. His jaw drops.
David: Really? Fine, I’ll put it on the Agency’s credit card.
He reaches behind him and removes his wallet. Dan proudly smiles.
Dan Van Slade: It’s money well spent.
David sarcastically looks at his client and removes the American Express card from his wallet.
David: I’m sure they’ll feel that way.
He leans forward to swipe the black magnetic strip of the AmEx card, but stops to take view the outrageous amount of money his agency is about to spend on random items meant specifically for violent acts.
David: Jesus, that’s way too much, Dan!
The Agent swipes the card anyway, and Dan strokes the stubble on his chin.
Dan Van Slade: It’s the bitter price to pay when you’ve got a lot of asses to kick.
The credit card is approved, and their transaction is finalized. They push their carts toward the exit, but before they can step through the metal detectors they’re confronted by a tiny elderly man donning the blue Walmart vest. He slowly stands from the stool where he sat and hobbles forward. His eyes are magnified by the lenses of his bifocals and his peppered mustache is thick and experienced. He’s just about lost all his white hair. He politely waves and stops at their carts.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Gentlemen, may I see your receipt?
Dan is quick to respond.
Dan Van Slade: Only if you can tell me what silent porn was like…
The elderly man double takes a glance at Dan, and then firmly retorts.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Excuse me?
David reaches across the cart and waves the three foot long receipt at the elderly man.
David: Here…
The length of the document surprises the attendant, and he retrieves it. The attendant kindly nods at David.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Thank you.
He begins to scale down the receipt, and bounces his eyes from the paper to the cart. Dan is very curious.
Dan Van Slade: Do you really check for everything?
The elderly man seems to be on point, focused, and doesn’t take his eye away from his job.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Everything.
Dan claps his hands together and is enthused.
Dan Van Slade: Fantastic, because you just might find your past in there somewhere. Look close.
The attendant isn’t fazed, and continues to make certain most of the large items are available to view.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: There’s no need to be rude, son.
Dan shrugs. He speaks innocently.
Dan Van Slade: This isn’t rude, sir. This is just me taking the time to enjoy a moment with a member of the assisted living society.
The attendant pulls his glasses to the tip of his nose and peeks up at Dan. He doesn’t look away. He hands David the receipt with his eyes locked on Dan. He blankly stares.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: OK, you’re good to go.
Dan looks at David, and then the attendant. He’s in awe, and looks at David once more, but returns his aim at the attendant.
Dan Van Slade: There’s no way you checked this cart that fast.
The man nods and pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He’s strict, and firm.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: You’re good to go.
Dan shakes his head about five times and then points at the two carts. He challenges the attendant.
Dan Van Slade: Check again.
They stare down – facial expressions like statues.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: You’re good…to go.
David wastes not time and pushes his cart passed the attendant. The two men continue to stare down, but Dan finishes the sequence with a wince.
David: Let’s go, Dan.
Dan pushes his cart passed the gentlemen but not without adding a final dash of salt to the wound when positioned directly next to the attendant.
Dan Van Slade: He’s still pissed about Pearl Harbor. It’s that obvious.
The attendant stands still, and peers over his shoulder as Dan brushes passed to catch up with David. The elderly man immediately forgets the interaction and returns to his perch at the entrance to the store. He takes a deep breath, smiles, and waves goodbye.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Happy holidays, gentlemen! (coughing into his hand) Cocksucker.
Dan is now beside David and he turns to his agent with a devious grin after catching the attendants send off. David shakes his head and breathes heavily as they push their way passed the holiday shopping horde and toward the exits. Three children position themselves around a claw machine and fail miserably to win Despicable Me Minion plush dolls. A teenage couple discuss which DVD they’d like to rent from the RedBox.
Two police officers enter Walmart and seem to be having a nice conversation with each other. The Caucasian officer, about 6’2” and 220 pound, is laughing after listening to his partner. His partner is an African American man built like Hall of Fame NFL Running Back Jim Brown and the looks of Ving Rhames. Dan keeps the cart rolling slowly forward as he loosens his grip of the steering bar and raises both arms in the air. The officers catch his action and uncomfortably glare at Dan and David as they stroll passed.
Dan has a truly evil grin that asks these officers to instantly foresee an altercation.
Dan Van Slade: Don’t shoot.
David suddenly begins to walk faster as Dan reaches out and takes control of his cart. The Caucasian cop spins to keep a close eye on Dan, and he’s predictably angered. He reaches for his gun, but instantly switches the reach toward his Billy club.
Police Officer No. 1: What the fuck did you just say?
His partner stops him, and places a hand on his shoulder. He speaks into the cops ear.
Police Officer No. 2: Just back off.
The first officer slowly shakes his head with an intense grimace. If Dan had stopped, rather than continued motion, it’s probable the two would have gone fisticuffs.
David briefly stops to allow Dan to catch up. He glances at the officers, and then anxiously stares at his client.
David: Holy shit, Dan, you’ve got to get yourself under control. Do you really think that those cops were going to have a sense of humor about that?
David looks back at the cops and can here the first officer sharing a final thought before stammering away into the mass supermarket volcano.
Police Officer No. 1: PIECE OF SHIT!
Dan pulls up beside David and chuckles. He points his thumb at the police officers as they begin their own excursion.
Dan Van Slade: Cops are the biggest comedians of our society, David.
The agent returns to guiding them toward the parking lot. They exit Walmart through sliding doors and Dan removes a piece of gum from its wrapper only to dispose of the covering into the Salvation Army coin canister being manned by a lonely looking gentleman wearing a Santa cap and ringing a golden bell.
The volunteer stares down at the wrapper shoved into the crevice meant specifically for monies. He’s annoyed, and turns to watch David and Dan walk away.
Salvation Army Volunteer: Um…sir?
The men ignore him, and are too busy digging deep into their own psyche. The man’s annoyed tone grows louder.
Salvation Army Volunteer: Excuse me…SIR!
Dan’s attention is on the Santa Clause outfit he’s chosen to purchase. He is giddy, and claps his hands.
Dan Van Slade: I can’t believe we’re going to do this! You don’t understand how happy this makes me.
David is anxious to be at their car, which seems to be parked deep into the concrete vastness. He walks fast, and swift.
David: I can’t believe I’m allowing this to happen.
Dan awkwardly, childishly chuckles.
Dan Van Slade: I know, it’s great.
He spins around and stares back at structure that is Walmart. He slowly nods and seems to have come up with an idea. He quickly spins around to see David.
Dan Van Slade: We should have a match here.
David removes car keys from his pants pocket. He aims, and presses a button on a round, black remote. Lights illuminate before them and a car honks twice not so distance from them.
The story leads to the Josephine Street Salvation Army located less than a mile from the Corpus Christi Bay. There’s a room where children sit Indian style side-by-side. David stands before them dressed in an Elf costume complete with bright green shoes that curl to a point where his toes are. He adjusts his red and white striped tights and smiles at the group of ten children. The kids impatiently wait for Santa Clause to join them. Elf David grabs a bell and shakes it a few times. This is Dan’s cue, and the children anxiously turn their attention to the exit. The door swings open, and Santa awkwardly rushes in as if it were Kozmo Kramer underneath the suit.
Behind the fluffy white beard and red cap is the man named Dan Van Slade, or in this case: Dan Van Santa Clause. He carries a large red sack over his shoulder that’s swelling with presents for the children. The kids shout and cheer as Dan Van Santa Clause hurries forward and toward Elf David. He looks at the children and grins.
He bastardizes Santa’s internationally known salutation.
Dan Van Santa Clause: HOES – HOES – HOES!
The children continue to cheer and disregard Dan Van Santa’s parody. They don’t know any better. Elf David does know better, and he appropriately rolls his eyes yet maintaining a picture-perfect smile.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Hello, children!
The kids simultaneously welcome the jolly fellow.
Kids: HELLO, SANTA!
A chair is positioned for Dan Van Santa Clause to find comfort. He drops his bright red sack next to the chair and winks at Elf David. He turns to the children.
Dan Van Santa Clause: The Jolly Ole’ St. Deviant has flown in from the North, the beautiful city of Missoula, so that he can deliver you little turds some good ole’ holiday deviance!
Dan sits in the chair and smiles as the children clap, and rejoice.
Kids: YAAAAAYYYYYY!
Dan Van Santa Clause: Who here has been nice this year?
It isn’t a surprise to the festively dressed men. Every child’s hand is raised.
Dan Van Santa Clause: I find that hard to believe. I’m sure all of you used your cuteness to lie; and tucked your little nuts back and withheld information when confronted by an angry authority figure. Most of you little deviants are sneaky pricks.
Danta Clause momentarily pauses, and strokes his ever-large and omnipresent beard. He ponders.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Or, maybe that’s just how I was, and still am – nonetheless…
He points at the children and grins.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Since you’re all highly impressionable children – I won’t carry on about Danta Clause knowing the ultimate truth. Some of you will receive coal in your stocking. It’s not about being naughty, either. Some of the less fortunate tikes sitting before me will get coal because their parents can’t afford to partake in Baby Jesus’ birthday.
David interrupts and steps forward. He embraces the children’s presence.
Elf David: SO! Kids…who wants to ask Santa a couple of questions!?
The kids raise their arms and flutter their hands in the air as if reaching for something that may never come to them. Their faces light up with a joy that’ll never be rediscovered in adulthood. Happiness is in great abundance.
Kids: (simultaneously) ME! ME! ME!
David scans the crowd and then catches the glance of a young African American boy. The boy is about eight years old. A more intriguing quality of the boy may be the two-times too big Wu-Tang Clan t-shirt he wears draped over his tiny frame. He tugs at a size six pair of Nike’s with his hand still waving in the air.
David directly points at him.
Elf David: OK – you, right there in the green. What’s your name?
Boy: JayMar Dockett da’tird.
Dan is shocked, and leans his ear toward the boy. He taps on the back of his ear with his index finger.
Dan Van Santa Clause: What was that about being a turd?
David disregards Dan Van Santa’s antics.
Elf David: OK, JayMar, what would you like to ask Santa?
The boy’s eyes move slowly left-to-right, he smirks, and then looks directly at Dan Van Santa Clause. When he speaks he tends to emphasize majority of the words for an effect that makes him oddly intimidating for boy.
JayMar Dockett III: Look, Santa, I aint ever had a goot Christmas. My dat been gone a’grip, and my ma workin’ at McDeez. Got a bro and a sis who’d like a goot Chritmas too. Dat’s all I want, doot. A goot Christmas. Make that happen?
Dan eyes begin to well, and his chin quivers underneath the white beard. He turns to David and notices that his Agent was on the same wave length. Their eyes meet, and then they look back at JayMar. Dan takes a deep breath and then hikes his chin. He sticks his hand into his gigantic present bag.
Dan Van Santa Clause: You’re in luck, kid. I’ve got exactly what you need.
He removes a tiny, thin, wrapped present topped with a complimenting bow. He tosses it to JayMar like a Frisbee and the future wide receiver uses to hands to catch it over his shoulder. The children surrounding him lean in to watch him unwrap it.
JayMar holds a plastic card in his hand. A few children look at each other for reactions, but most are confused – as is JayMar. He fiddles with the card for a moment before returning a smile at Danta.
JayMar Dockett III: Man – you da’best. But, what’s an E-B-T card, yo?
David’s eyes widen and he looks at Dan with disbelief, but Van Slade peers over his puffed white mustache and grins from ear-to-ear.
Dan Van Santa Clause: The easiest $200 in free food you’ll ever get. You may want to frame that though, because I stole it from WCF superstar “The Mack” Steve Orbit.
JayMar doesn’t react like the kid who freaked out after getting an X Box 360, but he seems extremely pleased, regardless.
JayMar Dockett III: This was the Mack’s? Aw, son, that’s raw as raw can get! Respect, Santa. Respect.
Elf David claps his hands and looks into the crowd with a friendly smile.
Elf David: OK! Who’s next?
He instantly notices a young blond girl wearing pink overalls. Her hand is stiffly held high. David points at her.
Elf David: Yes! You – what’s your name?
She drops her arm.
Girl: My name is Alex Flannery. I’m five.
She flashes five fingers. Dan tilts his head and looks at the little girl as if she’s the cutest thing in the world. He glances at David and nods.
Dan Van Santa Clause: She’s five, David.
Then Dan curiously looks at the girl.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Your dad isn’t Hardcore Alex is it? I wouldn’t be surprised that he’d name his daughter a junior.
Alex rocks back and forth, nervous, and responds.
Alex Flannery: No. My dad is Todd. He fights fires. He has a corvette that goes fast and he got me a Olaf doll from Frozen.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Father of the year.
The girl slaps her knees and then proudly responds.
Alex Flannery: He said Santa will bring me everything I want this year.
Dan glances at David, and then pans the class for a moment.
Dan Van Santa Clause: The class system is at full force amongst this group of children, David.
He looks at Alex.
Dan Van Santa Clause: So, your daddy said that you can have whatever you want, yeah?
Alex quickly nods, and grins.
Alex Flannery: Yep! I’m an Angel.
Dan raises his index finger and turns his attention to his big red bag.
Dan Van Santa Clause: I know exactly what you deserve!
He immediately removes a small red jewelry box meant for a ring. He lightly underhand tosses it to the young girl. She fumbles it, and the box falls to the floor in front of her. She reaches forward and grabs it. She sits back and shakes the box near her ear. The small red box is wrapped with a green bow. Alex unwraps the bow, and then opens the box. The boys next to her lean in and look into the box with her. They all look very confused. Alex looks at Dan.
Alex Flannery: Nothing!?
Dan claps once and then points at the group of children.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Exactly! – NEXT!
David instantly keeps moving to avoid confrontation. The young girl is gently weeping in the crowd of children, and JayMar continues to spit lyrics under his breath while adoring the EBT card in his hands. The Agent points at a young boy in glasses with messy dark brown hair.
Elf David: You! In the Angry Birds t-shirt.
The boy’s tone of voice is empty, and dull, but it’s easy to understand he’s attempting to be excited.
Boy 2: Santa! Will you say hi to Buddy the Elf for me!? Tell him that I leave him syrup and cola by the Christmas tree this year if he help you deliver presents to my house!
Dan looks confused.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Will Farrell?
But, Dan knows that he doesn’t need a response. He instantly begins to dig in his red bag of presents until he removes a set of brass knuckles.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Well, it appears to me that you’re going to need some assistance while growing up and dealing with angsty-teen rebels trying to beat your silly little ass for saying nerdy shit. So, take these…
He acts like he’s going to toss the boy a pair of brass knuckles, but he instead leans forward to hand deliver them.
Dan Van Santa Clause: …and tell those cocky mongrels that Santa told you it’s OK to defend yourself using brass knuckles.
The boy receives the weapon although he nearly dropped them due to their weight.
Boy 2: But…but will you tell Buddy I said hello?
Dan Van Santa Clause: Better. Those are his brass knuckles you’ve got in your tiny pre-pubescent hands.
David steps forward and puts his hands together.
Elf David: OK, kids! Santa will hand out more gifts before he leaves, but it’s just about time for the Jolly fella to move on to the next group of children.
Dan Van Santa Clause: There’s more?
Elf David: So, if you can all move in real close then I believe Santa is going to tell you a story!
The children begin to move closer together. Dan slowly shakes his head as he watches the kids inch their way closer to him.
Dan Van Santa Clause: This was nowhere in the agreement, David.
Dan takes a deep breath, smirks, and methodically nods his head.
Dan Van Santa Clause: But, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a little somethin’-somethin’ for this adorable group of little shits…
The kids seem to have found their spots and Dan Van Santa Clause leans forward.
Dan Van Santa Clause: OK, kiddos. It was the night before SLAM, and all through the arena, not an Oblivion was stirring, not even some trick named Marina. The ropes were wrapped around the wrestling ring with care – in hopes that St. Deviant would soon be there. The Pack disbanded and are pretty much dead; while “Devious” Dan Van Slade has visions of dancing on Mack’s head. Hardcore Alex with his vengeance, and I with brass knuckles, are about to settle the score as the wrestling world buckles….
Elf David begins to close the door. He’s happy, and continues to listen to the background as Dan’s story is adored by his crowd. All the children contently listen. The door is shut. Dan can be heard behind it attempting his best impersonation of Santa Clause.
The WCF superstar met his agent, David, at the Missoula International Airport and took the next available flight to Las Vegas. Missoula International only offered a connection to Texas through Las Vegas, so the ole’dirty deviant would eventually have a brief layover in Sin City. It’s fortunately brief. Dan Van Slade and Las Vegas is a powerfully destructive combination that would result in some sort of brutal mental combustion.
Dan wore a Chicago Cubs baseball cap, and a pair of sunglasses. His greasy curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He maneuvers his way down the aisle and tries to bypass everybody. It’s a sloppy attempt to be incognito, and behind the Deviant’s atrocious checkered suit jacket is a t-shirt that reads: “YOUR OWN PERSONAL DEVIANT.” A play on the Depeche Mode classic. David, his agent, was not far behind, and spent some time exchanging a few words with the adorable stewardess that welcomed them. It’s apparent she wasn’t interested in his Matt Damon-esque looks and posh fetish for a colored Polo and khaki combination.
David and Dan stashed their carry-on and sit beside each other near the wing.
Dan Van Slade: David…
David: Yes?
David buckles his seat belt and tightens it. He looks curiously at Dan who is removing his sunglasses. Van Slade’s eyes are wide. He seems to be very concerned. He lowers his voice, and reveals the little known talent for impersonating Sean Connery.
Dan Van Slade: I think I saw a tan fella with a gem on his forehead. It was like a troll’s belly button, but on his forehead…I think it was a terrorist troll…
Dan puts his fingers near his mouth as if he’s biting his nails. He cringes and peers over his shoulder in fright.
David: Are you out of your God damned mind?
Dan ends his mockery and turns to David with a sincere grin.
Dan Van Slade: Absolutely.
David looks around the airplane to make certain nobody heard what Dan Van Slade had said. David looks with serious intent at his client.
David: Do you have any idea what could happen if anybody, and I mean anybody, heard what you just said? Just that word alone spells danger to the integrity of this flight. You can’t say shit like that. That crap has to be eliminated from the conversation starting right now.
Dan seems to have been impressed with what his agent vented. Van Slade looks to his right and ponders; he strokes his chin and then returns a glance at David.
Dan Van Slade: So, what you’re sayin’ is that if I asked a stewardess…
Dan turns to face the aisle and extends his arm just as a young brunette stewardess struts passed. She stops before Dan and smiles. Her elegant watermelon colored lipstick is complimented well with a dark shade of blue above the eyes. Dan winks, and adorably smiles.
Dan Van Slade: Miss, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to ask you a relatively serious question…
The stewardess slowly descends to a knee and listens contently to Dan’s inquiry.
Stewardess: Sure! What may I help you with?
Dan scans his index finger around the plane and then curiously ponders.
Dan Van Slade: About how many Sand -
David: MISS!
David interrupts his client and leans forward with an extremely large grin. Several beads of sweat roll down his forehead to create streams of perspiration in the creases above his eyes. The Stewardess seems intrigued, but mostly concerned with her current situation.
David: Yes, miss, can you get my friend here a vodka-tonic. I’ll take a Goose’n’Cranberry.
Dan Van Slade: Can I finish asking my question?
David looks angrily at Van Slade and responds sternly.
David: No.
He then returns a huge grin at the Stewardess.
David: If you don’t mind…
The Stewardess nonchalantly smiles and nods.
David: …we’ll need those drinks right away.
The stewardess stands. She still hasn’t decided what to think of the current events but she wears a smile regardless.
Stewardess: O…K. Gentlemen – just give me a moment!
Dan slowly and disappointingly shakes his head at David.
Dan Van Slade: This is a matter of life and death and you order me a vodka-tonic?
David sits back in his chair and wipes the sweat from his brow. He wipes his soaked hand on his leg. He takes a deep breath, grinds his teeth, and turns to Dan.
David: Shut the Hell up; just…shut the Hell up.
Dan leans back in his chair. He puts on his sunglasses, and then tips his baseball cap forward to cover his eyes.
Dan Van Slade: I’m just sayin’. I don’t want a vodka – tonic when I’m about to go Die Hard on a sum-bitch because he’s all about that barefoot-turban life. Should’ve gone train. Definitely should’ve hit the tracks, and hard.
David sighs and grabs a pair of white ear buds.
David: We’ll get there faster in the air.
Dan Van Slade: Let’s hope there isn’t the Pearly Gates. I’m not interested in my Judgment Day. Plus, I really like this Cubs hat and I’d hate for it to get all fucked up because some Camel -
David: SO HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE A NICE NAP!
David immediately smiles at Dan Van Slade. The elderly Asian woman across the aisle stares at them. David smiles back, and Dan Van Slade hasn’t moved a muscle from his currently position. The Asian lady smiles, still staring through the thins of her eyes, and nods. David waves, and then stressfully falls back in his seat.
Dan Van Slade: I just hope Jahani al-Reb isn’t our pilot.
The seat-belt light illuminates, and the bell sounds. David blankly stares up at it.
In this wilderness are signs for Rollback Prices and row after row of hearty consumerism. In the heart of the jungle are Dan Van Slade and his Agent, David, as they trek their shopping cart like a covered wagon through the maze of product like explorers of the Oregon Trail. This isn’t any great expedition. No - this is a brief shopping spree at the Saratoga Road Walmart Supercenter in Corpus Christi, Texas.
The men slowly glide through each aisle. Their eyes pan from shelf-to-shelf and they anticipate what deal they may find. It seems as if they’ve already found what they’re looking for. The blue shopping cart is filled to the rim with questionable items such as a few crowbars; saw blades, spindles of thick rope, screws, nails, ball-pin hammers, extension cords, duck tape and a laundry list of dangerous tools. He could be mistaken for a carpenter; or a sociopath.
A holiday radio station plays throughout supercenter. Rudolph, Frosty, Winter Wonderland, you name it – they’re even playing it in different languages to make up for the diverse nature of society.
It’s obvious that David is uneasy about the items they’re about to purchase. The men turn down an aisle decorated with an assortment of cliché table and desk lamps. Dan sees light bulbs hanging from hooks near the middle of the aisle and clears the entire rack. The shopping cart swells, and the lights layer the top of the weaponry mound. David slowly shakes his head as they continue their journey through the aisle and onto the next. David turns to Dan with concern.
David: OK, I get it. We’re not going Christmas shopping, but do you have to buy everything that’s meant to physically endanger somebody?
Dan reaches forward and pulls a 60 watt light bulb from its package. He places it above his head to symbolize having an epiphany. He smiles, and then tosses the bulb into the cart. He stares, lost in a daze, deep into the netherworld of a Christmas bitten conglomerate mad house.
Dan Van Slade: I have to live the part, Sir David.
David doesn’t seem to fully understand his client’s intentions.
David: I’m not sure I like the fact that you’ve won your way into contention for the hardcore title. It’s difficult for me to guarantee your safety. The Agency is shitting a cinder block over this; they’re not happy.
Dan nods and isn’t surprised. The men continue their journey through Walmart and they turn left down a large main aisle way littered with islands of bargains. Prices stand out in bold like billboards on a highway.
Dan Van Slade: That logic is fair. Unhappiness is the typical result of shitting cinder blocks.
David continues his rant as his eyes bounce back-and-forth from Kitchen Aid mixers to bean bag chairs. He adjusts the orchid colored collar of his polo and then brushes his well-groomed brown hair.
David: The fact of the matter is this – your contract is worth far too much for you to be involving yourself in no holds barred drama. Why don’t you get back to being the next best thing in professional wrestling and let Steve Orbit take out the trash?
Van Slade snickers and guides the cart passed clusters of anxious holiday shoppers. He quickly unzips his gray North Face jacket for comfort and reveals a self-promoting T-Shirt. The bold white text plainly reads: ‘CONSUMER DEVIANCE’. His long greasy hair whips back as he turns to David.
Dan Van Slade: Nah, this is too perfect, David. This is starting from the bottom. This is it; the trash collector. I’ve got a shopping cart arsenal that’s meant to level this company from the base, and the structure so poetically begins with one of the greatest WCF has to offer.
Dan returns focus toward shoppers aimlessly travelling the aisle; then back at David.
Dan Van Slade: I’m sure you’ve seen my Twitter?
David raises his brows and smirks.
David: I might be the only one.
Dan rolls his light blue eyes as the men take a left down a furniture aisle with a variety of recliners, tables, and wooden television activity trays.
Dan Van Slade: That’s neither here, nor there. I don’t think you’re seeing the big picture here. Let me also make it clear that I can give two healthy shits about my contract; I’m not one for being bound and I know it’s going to be a hassle in the future.
Dan catches glimpse of a rack displaying black wooden T.V. trays. He removes one of the small tables and holds it gracefully in his hands like wielding a steel chair. He studies it for a brief moment then looks passed it to speak confidently with his agent.
Dan Van Slade: You want the fact of the matter? Let me give it to you.
He bends forward to slide the wooden T.V. tray on the lower storage rack beneath the shopping cart. When he stands – he turns and removes another T.V. tray from the shelf rack; he continues to do this for two more trays but not without pausing to speak with David before placing them on the carts bottom storage shelf.
Dan Van Slade: Did you see what I did, Wednesday? That’s a rhetorical question. I took out half, half, of the competition. Three wins – in one match. I made the WCF Torneo Cibernetico in my first official match in the business. Now, let’s think of the possibilities here.
Dan Van Slade: I flew head first like an unpredictable missile into this promotion amongst a swarm of fresh talent. Wannabes, literally, and some of them just ask to have their asses kicked on a nightly basis. Guys in dresses, and former MMA scum who think they can step into my ring and act big? I’m proud to say that I’m a diamond in the roughest of rough. Can you see what I’m getting at?
David ponders, and lightly strokes his chin. Dan has finished storing the T.V. trays underneath the cart and stands; he cracks his neck to the left. David shrugs and acts indecisive. Dan smiles and returns to pilot the shopping cart.
Dan Van Slade: My modus operandi is artfully simple. I play the game. I do work, and I do what needs to be done. The WCF gave me the opportunity. They had the opportunity hanging like a pair of testicles at the end of a stick. So, I grabbed it by the balls.
An African American woman and her three children stroll passed but not without overhearing Van Slade’s latter statement. The tiny bulbous woman stops on a dime and her children pause to clutch onto the sides of her shopping cart filled with random assortments of off-brand food stuffs and Malt-O-Meal cereals. Dan and David ignore her and continue passed. The woman doesn’t have to say a word – her expression and demeanor make believe she’d have a dialect-ridden few words for the Filthy Rotten Deviant and his naïve agent.
Dan looks at David and nonchalantly continues.
Dan Van Slade: I’m not going to fuck around. I’m going to win; every day, at every show, and against everybody.
All eyes are on the journey before them as the cart takes a right hair-pin turn down another main aisle way. Flatscreen televisions light up the horizon as they march forward.
Dan Van Slade: It begins with the trash I collected on Wednesday, and it continues with my eyes set on derailing Steve Orbit. I’ve never refereed a match, but I’m certain it’ll be a burden to the Vapor Kings. That minor tributary of the saga is clearly a bonus.
They rush through one aisle and continue their weave and curl left down a lane cluttered with anything and everything necessary for business and home office. David seems concerned, and delivers more of his opinion.
David: It’s just an incredibly nonsensical way to begin your career. You’re already putting yourself at risk and you’ve been with the company less than a month.
Dan stops the cart and analyzes the many items before him; scissors, pencils, thumb tacks, etc. He happily glances at David and responds.
Dan Van Slade: That’s awesome.
His agent sighs, and continues.
David: I’ve got a vast vocabulary that better represents what’s at stake, and most of it’s not awesome. But, I’m not going to rely on that. I have faith that you’ll be all that you say you are. I know what you can do, but I suppose I didn’t give enough credit toward your capability to adapt.
Dan stops and takes a step back to analyze the shopping cart and its abundance of stuffs. The cart is busting at the sides; a heaping pile of anything useful in providing a proper beat down. He studies the engulfed vessel and slowly shakes his head. He strokes his chin, and glares.
Dan Van Slade: We’re gonna need a bigger cart.
He immediately returns to the mission at hand and disregards the setback. The shopping cart is back in full function, but only for a few feet once Dan eyes something he must deem necessary for conquest. He stops, but he’s capable of returning to conversation.
Dan Van Slade: I do what man does best. I adapt, and evolve. That’s what we’ll see on Sunday. There I’ll be – His Divine Deviance – at the epicenter of attention and the controller of destinies. God I’m good. The WCF wants me to beat The Mack. The world wants me to beat The Mack. They know what they’re doing. It’s as if the WCF is reading my mind, David! If I could just find the tits and vagina of this place then it’d be a match made in Heaven…
David seems rather delighted, and grins at his agent. David smirks, and then attempts to understand why they’ve stopped.
David: Right. You just have to get through Hardcore Alex.
Its obvious Dan doesn’t understand. His head tilts like a dog in a daze.
Dan Van Slade: I don’t get what you’re saying.
His actions are contagious once David responds with the same routine. Head tilt.
David: You have absolutely no idea, do you?
Van Slade leans forward and seems to have his sights set on the shelf containing rows, and stacks, of thumbtack packages. He shakes his head to indicate his uncertainty.
Dan Van Slade: None at all.
David is amazed by this, and softly laughs to himself. He slowly shakes his head, and shrugs his shoulders.
David: You and Alex square off, Sunday night. A few matches before you referee.
Dan grabs a package of thumbtacks and examines the item. He reads a few lines, and turns it over. He zooms in to read a fine print. He looks at David and shrugs.
Dan Van Slade: Well…fuck. Thanks, I guess? I appreciate the extra win?
It’s apparent by the ‘come on, man’ stare that David is giving him that Dan has to obviously explain himself. Van Slade stands, still with thumbtacks in hand.
Dan Van Slade: It’s simple, really. It’s a set-up, David.
He tosses the thumbtacks into the cart, and the box nearly slides off the swelling mound of product.
Dan Van Slade: They want me to be worn when I enforce that tag match.
He snaps his fingers.
Dan Van Slade: Those clever bastards. Life’s a bitch, man. But, I’m not going to complain about being handed a win.
David: I think you’re underestimating your opponent.
The thought makes Dan laugh.
Dan Van Slade: Which one might that be?
The laughter begins to fade as his Agent attempts to share logic with a man that thinks clearly in one direction. His concern is highlight through the tone of his voice as he reasons with Dan.
David: Hardcore Alex. He’s not going to be an easy win, Dan. He’s tough, and athletic. You never know – if he defeats you then this could be his golden ticket. Sometimes life works that way. Just when you think you’ve got it – suddenly you’ve given it to a person who wanted it more.
His Royal Deviousness is taken back. His eyes widen. He stares at David like a Black Woman who can’t believe what she just heard.
Dan Van Slade: You can take that talk somewhere else, buddy. Do you honestly believe that he could beat me? Didn’t you just say that you have faith in me? I should slap the uppity shit right out of you; but, instead – I’ll just act like you’re not trying to reason with this. Mmm-Hmm…
Dan snaps his fingers and then steps back in the cock pit of the shopping cart. He taps his fingers on the steering bar and waits as David responds.
David: That’s exactly what it was – I just wanted to reason with you. I know you’re smart, and I do have faith in you. I’m your agent, for Christ’s sake!
Dan raises an eyebrow and cheaply half-smirks.
Dan Van Slade: That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t break my ankles trying to slither passed through the grass – you slimy little snake.
Dan pushes the car several feet forward and bypasses items unnecessary for his pilgrimage through the Wrestling Championship Federation. David follows at his side.
David: Whatever, just do what you’ve gotta do. Forget Hardcore Alex. Beat him, get that crap over with and then move on to bigger and better things.
They stop, and Dan glares at a Walmart employee stocking a shelf that caps the end of the aisle. He turns to David and contently speaks.
Dan Van Slade: Well, yeah, I’m feeling like I’m about to Hulk out on a little guy and pretty much destroy his career in one fatal swoop.
David slowly inches his hand toward one of the many crowbars sticking out of the shopping cart. He seems as if he’s preparing himself for an onslaught, and Dan seems relatively confused as to what his Agent is doing. Van Slade looks at David as if he’s seen the biggest idiot in the world.
Dan Van Slade: Not you, ya’big dummy. I’m talking about that Hardcore Alex guy.
David backs off.
David: The Slickness?
The expression on Dan’s face has yet to fade.
Dan Van Slade: What? No, you jerk, that was the name of some idiots that he played beer pong with. Fuck, I’ve gotta fight a moron who still plays beer pong? Now I can see why Justin Sane flaked out. This is a righteous mess, my friend.
Van Slade focuses on the Walmart employee. The young worker is wearing a blue Walmart vest over top a black T-Shirt supporting the band ‘Rise Against’. His hair is a wiry mess, and his pants are so tight you can almost read the Hanes logo on the waistband of his briefs. Then again, one could definitely read the Hanes logo on the waistband. Even though the pants are far too tight for male comfort – he somehow manages the ability to let them sag half-passed his back end. His attire is topped off with a pair of high tops he raided from Journeys that are made to look like they’ve been vandalized by a street artist with a Batman fetish.
Dan clears his throat, and raises his arm.
Dan Van Slade: Excuse me…
The employee looks at Dan, and then David. He doesn’t seem too enthused about being confronted by customers. Dan points at the thumbtack box that’s clinging for dear-life on the edge of the shopping cart. The Walmart Employee hesitantly struts forward.
Dan Van Slade: This isn’t going to be enough thumbtacks. I’ll take every case you’ve got.
The worker stops in his tracks and awkwardly stares at the men before him.
Walmart Employee: Every case?
Dan lowers his brows and his eyes are piercing.
Dan Van Slade: Did I stutter?
The young man doesn’t seem to back down and interrogates.
Walmart Employee: Sir, may I ask what it is that you’re doing?
Van Slade takes a brief glance at his agent, and then laughs as he answers.
Dan Van Slade: What, you can’t tell by all the tools and household essentials that it’s obvious I’m building a house…?
The answer is not any good when there’s still more evidence before closure.
Walmart Employee: What about the cases of thumb tacks?
Dan slowly shakes his head, smacks his lips, and rolls his eyes. He acts as if the answer is clearly obvious.
Dan Van Slade: That’s simple. Every wall in the house is made of cork board. I have a bulletin board fetish.
The employee shrugs and then walks forward.
Walmart Employee: Fair enough.
He removes the walkie-talkie from its holster attached to his loosened belt and contacts another member of his team.
Walmart Employee: Candace – can you find me every case of thumbtacks in the warehouse? I’ve got a gentlemen purchasing all of them.
The worker treks passed Dan and David to begin his mission. Van Slade eases the shopping cart forward as he and David hear the incoming transmission from Candace as the helpful-but-curious employee fades into the distance.
Candace: All of them? Does this guy have a bulletin board fetish?
Dan and David exit the aisle, passing the leftovers of the young man’s side mission to stock, and they cross over the main aisle toward a lane specific to kitchen wares. David is curious, and turns to Dan.
David: Really? Building a house?
Dan smirks as they enter the kitchen aisle. He looks at David.
Dan Van Slade: A house of pain, bitch.
His attention turns to the rack of Orgreenic organic non-stick frying pans hanging on racks to his right.
Dan Van Slade: Oh, here we go.
The Ole’ Dirty Deviant slides a pan from its hook and studiously surveys it.
David: Really? You’re going to use an Orgreenic frying pan as a weapon?
Van Slade looks passed the pan and at his agent.
Dan Van Slade: On the contrary – I need it for my breakfast tomorrow.
He places the frying pan on a small mound that’s spatially randomized in the carts baby carrier. David nods and looks into the distance. Dan double takes a glance down the aisle, and is instantly sent into frenzy.
Dan Van Slade: Holy Freddy WHOA! Is that a Santa Clause costume next to an elf costume?
David slowly shakes his head. Dan sees a variety of Christmas costumes on display in the adjacent aisle across another main aisle-way.
David: Don’t you freakin’ dare…
Dan slowly, creepily, turns to David with a child-like grin. His eyes widen. He slowly nods.
Dan Van Slade: Oh…it’s on…
Dan and David bobbed and weaved through the aisles of Walmart and eventually needed another cart. Five cases of thumbtacks were organized and stacked to layer the second carts inside bottom. This extra cart contained more of what made up the first cart, and also included an Elf and Santa Clause costume. There were a few new items such as fishing tackle, lifting weights, canoe paddles, and Coleman mini propane tanks.
Their excursion came to an end in the self-checkout lane. The holidays brought shoppers into Walmart like a plague, and this made every lane of Walmart a line of woe and sadness. Dan and David’s two shopping carts filled with ridiculous items made it a burden for those waiting to make a transaction. There was a line of about fifteen deep behind the men as they scanned their items and listened to the female voice projected by the touch screen computer assisting them. Dan and David’s tunnel vision kept them from being conscious of all the boiling annoyance behind them.
The final item is scanned twenty minutes after the first, and it’s time for payment. Van Slade reaches behind him and places his hand into an empty back pocket. He then begins to pat himself down and search for his wallet. He pauses, and blankly stares at David.
Dan Van Slade: Darn.
David: What? What’s wrong?
Dan Van Slade: I forgot my wallet in my luggage. Can you pay for all of this?
David is shocked. His eyes widen. His jaw drops.
David: Really? Fine, I’ll put it on the Agency’s credit card.
He reaches behind him and removes his wallet. Dan proudly smiles.
Dan Van Slade: It’s money well spent.
David sarcastically looks at his client and removes the American Express card from his wallet.
David: I’m sure they’ll feel that way.
He leans forward to swipe the black magnetic strip of the AmEx card, but stops to take view the outrageous amount of money his agency is about to spend on random items meant specifically for violent acts.
David: Jesus, that’s way too much, Dan!
The Agent swipes the card anyway, and Dan strokes the stubble on his chin.
Dan Van Slade: It’s the bitter price to pay when you’ve got a lot of asses to kick.
The credit card is approved, and their transaction is finalized. They push their carts toward the exit, but before they can step through the metal detectors they’re confronted by a tiny elderly man donning the blue Walmart vest. He slowly stands from the stool where he sat and hobbles forward. His eyes are magnified by the lenses of his bifocals and his peppered mustache is thick and experienced. He’s just about lost all his white hair. He politely waves and stops at their carts.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Gentlemen, may I see your receipt?
Dan is quick to respond.
Dan Van Slade: Only if you can tell me what silent porn was like…
The elderly man double takes a glance at Dan, and then firmly retorts.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Excuse me?
David reaches across the cart and waves the three foot long receipt at the elderly man.
David: Here…
The length of the document surprises the attendant, and he retrieves it. The attendant kindly nods at David.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Thank you.
He begins to scale down the receipt, and bounces his eyes from the paper to the cart. Dan is very curious.
Dan Van Slade: Do you really check for everything?
The elderly man seems to be on point, focused, and doesn’t take his eye away from his job.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Everything.
Dan claps his hands together and is enthused.
Dan Van Slade: Fantastic, because you just might find your past in there somewhere. Look close.
The attendant isn’t fazed, and continues to make certain most of the large items are available to view.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: There’s no need to be rude, son.
Dan shrugs. He speaks innocently.
Dan Van Slade: This isn’t rude, sir. This is just me taking the time to enjoy a moment with a member of the assisted living society.
The attendant pulls his glasses to the tip of his nose and peeks up at Dan. He doesn’t look away. He hands David the receipt with his eyes locked on Dan. He blankly stares.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: OK, you’re good to go.
Dan looks at David, and then the attendant. He’s in awe, and looks at David once more, but returns his aim at the attendant.
Dan Van Slade: There’s no way you checked this cart that fast.
The man nods and pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He’s strict, and firm.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: You’re good to go.
Dan shakes his head about five times and then points at the two carts. He challenges the attendant.
Dan Van Slade: Check again.
They stare down – facial expressions like statues.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: You’re good…to go.
David wastes not time and pushes his cart passed the attendant. The two men continue to stare down, but Dan finishes the sequence with a wince.
David: Let’s go, Dan.
Dan pushes his cart passed the gentlemen but not without adding a final dash of salt to the wound when positioned directly next to the attendant.
Dan Van Slade: He’s still pissed about Pearl Harbor. It’s that obvious.
The attendant stands still, and peers over his shoulder as Dan brushes passed to catch up with David. The elderly man immediately forgets the interaction and returns to his perch at the entrance to the store. He takes a deep breath, smiles, and waves goodbye.
Elderly Walmart Attendant: Happy holidays, gentlemen! (coughing into his hand) Cocksucker.
Dan is now beside David and he turns to his agent with a devious grin after catching the attendants send off. David shakes his head and breathes heavily as they push their way passed the holiday shopping horde and toward the exits. Three children position themselves around a claw machine and fail miserably to win Despicable Me Minion plush dolls. A teenage couple discuss which DVD they’d like to rent from the RedBox.
Two police officers enter Walmart and seem to be having a nice conversation with each other. The Caucasian officer, about 6’2” and 220 pound, is laughing after listening to his partner. His partner is an African American man built like Hall of Fame NFL Running Back Jim Brown and the looks of Ving Rhames. Dan keeps the cart rolling slowly forward as he loosens his grip of the steering bar and raises both arms in the air. The officers catch his action and uncomfortably glare at Dan and David as they stroll passed.
Dan has a truly evil grin that asks these officers to instantly foresee an altercation.
Dan Van Slade: Don’t shoot.
David suddenly begins to walk faster as Dan reaches out and takes control of his cart. The Caucasian cop spins to keep a close eye on Dan, and he’s predictably angered. He reaches for his gun, but instantly switches the reach toward his Billy club.
Police Officer No. 1: What the fuck did you just say?
His partner stops him, and places a hand on his shoulder. He speaks into the cops ear.
Police Officer No. 2: Just back off.
The first officer slowly shakes his head with an intense grimace. If Dan had stopped, rather than continued motion, it’s probable the two would have gone fisticuffs.
David briefly stops to allow Dan to catch up. He glances at the officers, and then anxiously stares at his client.
David: Holy shit, Dan, you’ve got to get yourself under control. Do you really think that those cops were going to have a sense of humor about that?
David looks back at the cops and can here the first officer sharing a final thought before stammering away into the mass supermarket volcano.
Police Officer No. 1: PIECE OF SHIT!
Dan pulls up beside David and chuckles. He points his thumb at the police officers as they begin their own excursion.
Dan Van Slade: Cops are the biggest comedians of our society, David.
The agent returns to guiding them toward the parking lot. They exit Walmart through sliding doors and Dan removes a piece of gum from its wrapper only to dispose of the covering into the Salvation Army coin canister being manned by a lonely looking gentleman wearing a Santa cap and ringing a golden bell.
The volunteer stares down at the wrapper shoved into the crevice meant specifically for monies. He’s annoyed, and turns to watch David and Dan walk away.
Salvation Army Volunteer: Um…sir?
The men ignore him, and are too busy digging deep into their own psyche. The man’s annoyed tone grows louder.
Salvation Army Volunteer: Excuse me…SIR!
Dan’s attention is on the Santa Clause outfit he’s chosen to purchase. He is giddy, and claps his hands.
Dan Van Slade: I can’t believe we’re going to do this! You don’t understand how happy this makes me.
David is anxious to be at their car, which seems to be parked deep into the concrete vastness. He walks fast, and swift.
David: I can’t believe I’m allowing this to happen.
Dan awkwardly, childishly chuckles.
Dan Van Slade: I know, it’s great.
He spins around and stares back at structure that is Walmart. He slowly nods and seems to have come up with an idea. He quickly spins around to see David.
Dan Van Slade: We should have a match here.
David removes car keys from his pants pocket. He aims, and presses a button on a round, black remote. Lights illuminate before them and a car honks twice not so distance from them.
The story leads to the Josephine Street Salvation Army located less than a mile from the Corpus Christi Bay. There’s a room where children sit Indian style side-by-side. David stands before them dressed in an Elf costume complete with bright green shoes that curl to a point where his toes are. He adjusts his red and white striped tights and smiles at the group of ten children. The kids impatiently wait for Santa Clause to join them. Elf David grabs a bell and shakes it a few times. This is Dan’s cue, and the children anxiously turn their attention to the exit. The door swings open, and Santa awkwardly rushes in as if it were Kozmo Kramer underneath the suit.
Behind the fluffy white beard and red cap is the man named Dan Van Slade, or in this case: Dan Van Santa Clause. He carries a large red sack over his shoulder that’s swelling with presents for the children. The kids shout and cheer as Dan Van Santa Clause hurries forward and toward Elf David. He looks at the children and grins.
He bastardizes Santa’s internationally known salutation.
Dan Van Santa Clause: HOES – HOES – HOES!
The children continue to cheer and disregard Dan Van Santa’s parody. They don’t know any better. Elf David does know better, and he appropriately rolls his eyes yet maintaining a picture-perfect smile.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Hello, children!
The kids simultaneously welcome the jolly fellow.
Kids: HELLO, SANTA!
A chair is positioned for Dan Van Santa Clause to find comfort. He drops his bright red sack next to the chair and winks at Elf David. He turns to the children.
Dan Van Santa Clause: The Jolly Ole’ St. Deviant has flown in from the North, the beautiful city of Missoula, so that he can deliver you little turds some good ole’ holiday deviance!
Dan sits in the chair and smiles as the children clap, and rejoice.
Kids: YAAAAAYYYYYY!
Dan Van Santa Clause: Who here has been nice this year?
It isn’t a surprise to the festively dressed men. Every child’s hand is raised.
Dan Van Santa Clause: I find that hard to believe. I’m sure all of you used your cuteness to lie; and tucked your little nuts back and withheld information when confronted by an angry authority figure. Most of you little deviants are sneaky pricks.
Danta Clause momentarily pauses, and strokes his ever-large and omnipresent beard. He ponders.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Or, maybe that’s just how I was, and still am – nonetheless…
He points at the children and grins.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Since you’re all highly impressionable children – I won’t carry on about Danta Clause knowing the ultimate truth. Some of you will receive coal in your stocking. It’s not about being naughty, either. Some of the less fortunate tikes sitting before me will get coal because their parents can’t afford to partake in Baby Jesus’ birthday.
David interrupts and steps forward. He embraces the children’s presence.
Elf David: SO! Kids…who wants to ask Santa a couple of questions!?
The kids raise their arms and flutter their hands in the air as if reaching for something that may never come to them. Their faces light up with a joy that’ll never be rediscovered in adulthood. Happiness is in great abundance.
Kids: (simultaneously) ME! ME! ME!
David scans the crowd and then catches the glance of a young African American boy. The boy is about eight years old. A more intriguing quality of the boy may be the two-times too big Wu-Tang Clan t-shirt he wears draped over his tiny frame. He tugs at a size six pair of Nike’s with his hand still waving in the air.
David directly points at him.
Elf David: OK – you, right there in the green. What’s your name?
Boy: JayMar Dockett da’tird.
Dan is shocked, and leans his ear toward the boy. He taps on the back of his ear with his index finger.
Dan Van Santa Clause: What was that about being a turd?
David disregards Dan Van Santa’s antics.
Elf David: OK, JayMar, what would you like to ask Santa?
The boy’s eyes move slowly left-to-right, he smirks, and then looks directly at Dan Van Santa Clause. When he speaks he tends to emphasize majority of the words for an effect that makes him oddly intimidating for boy.
JayMar Dockett III: Look, Santa, I aint ever had a goot Christmas. My dat been gone a’grip, and my ma workin’ at McDeez. Got a bro and a sis who’d like a goot Chritmas too. Dat’s all I want, doot. A goot Christmas. Make that happen?
Dan eyes begin to well, and his chin quivers underneath the white beard. He turns to David and notices that his Agent was on the same wave length. Their eyes meet, and then they look back at JayMar. Dan takes a deep breath and then hikes his chin. He sticks his hand into his gigantic present bag.
Dan Van Santa Clause: You’re in luck, kid. I’ve got exactly what you need.
He removes a tiny, thin, wrapped present topped with a complimenting bow. He tosses it to JayMar like a Frisbee and the future wide receiver uses to hands to catch it over his shoulder. The children surrounding him lean in to watch him unwrap it.
JayMar holds a plastic card in his hand. A few children look at each other for reactions, but most are confused – as is JayMar. He fiddles with the card for a moment before returning a smile at Danta.
JayMar Dockett III: Man – you da’best. But, what’s an E-B-T card, yo?
David’s eyes widen and he looks at Dan with disbelief, but Van Slade peers over his puffed white mustache and grins from ear-to-ear.
Dan Van Santa Clause: The easiest $200 in free food you’ll ever get. You may want to frame that though, because I stole it from WCF superstar “The Mack” Steve Orbit.
JayMar doesn’t react like the kid who freaked out after getting an X Box 360, but he seems extremely pleased, regardless.
JayMar Dockett III: This was the Mack’s? Aw, son, that’s raw as raw can get! Respect, Santa. Respect.
Elf David claps his hands and looks into the crowd with a friendly smile.
Elf David: OK! Who’s next?
He instantly notices a young blond girl wearing pink overalls. Her hand is stiffly held high. David points at her.
Elf David: Yes! You – what’s your name?
She drops her arm.
Girl: My name is Alex Flannery. I’m five.
She flashes five fingers. Dan tilts his head and looks at the little girl as if she’s the cutest thing in the world. He glances at David and nods.
Dan Van Santa Clause: She’s five, David.
Then Dan curiously looks at the girl.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Your dad isn’t Hardcore Alex is it? I wouldn’t be surprised that he’d name his daughter a junior.
Alex rocks back and forth, nervous, and responds.
Alex Flannery: No. My dad is Todd. He fights fires. He has a corvette that goes fast and he got me a Olaf doll from Frozen.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Father of the year.
The girl slaps her knees and then proudly responds.
Alex Flannery: He said Santa will bring me everything I want this year.
Dan glances at David, and then pans the class for a moment.
Dan Van Santa Clause: The class system is at full force amongst this group of children, David.
He looks at Alex.
Dan Van Santa Clause: So, your daddy said that you can have whatever you want, yeah?
Alex quickly nods, and grins.
Alex Flannery: Yep! I’m an Angel.
Dan raises his index finger and turns his attention to his big red bag.
Dan Van Santa Clause: I know exactly what you deserve!
He immediately removes a small red jewelry box meant for a ring. He lightly underhand tosses it to the young girl. She fumbles it, and the box falls to the floor in front of her. She reaches forward and grabs it. She sits back and shakes the box near her ear. The small red box is wrapped with a green bow. Alex unwraps the bow, and then opens the box. The boys next to her lean in and look into the box with her. They all look very confused. Alex looks at Dan.
Alex Flannery: Nothing!?
Dan claps once and then points at the group of children.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Exactly! – NEXT!
David instantly keeps moving to avoid confrontation. The young girl is gently weeping in the crowd of children, and JayMar continues to spit lyrics under his breath while adoring the EBT card in his hands. The Agent points at a young boy in glasses with messy dark brown hair.
Elf David: You! In the Angry Birds t-shirt.
The boy’s tone of voice is empty, and dull, but it’s easy to understand he’s attempting to be excited.
Boy 2: Santa! Will you say hi to Buddy the Elf for me!? Tell him that I leave him syrup and cola by the Christmas tree this year if he help you deliver presents to my house!
Dan looks confused.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Will Farrell?
But, Dan knows that he doesn’t need a response. He instantly begins to dig in his red bag of presents until he removes a set of brass knuckles.
Dan Van Santa Clause: Well, it appears to me that you’re going to need some assistance while growing up and dealing with angsty-teen rebels trying to beat your silly little ass for saying nerdy shit. So, take these…
He acts like he’s going to toss the boy a pair of brass knuckles, but he instead leans forward to hand deliver them.
Dan Van Santa Clause: …and tell those cocky mongrels that Santa told you it’s OK to defend yourself using brass knuckles.
The boy receives the weapon although he nearly dropped them due to their weight.
Boy 2: But…but will you tell Buddy I said hello?
Dan Van Santa Clause: Better. Those are his brass knuckles you’ve got in your tiny pre-pubescent hands.
David steps forward and puts his hands together.
Elf David: OK, kids! Santa will hand out more gifts before he leaves, but it’s just about time for the Jolly fella to move on to the next group of children.
Dan Van Santa Clause: There’s more?
Elf David: So, if you can all move in real close then I believe Santa is going to tell you a story!
The children begin to move closer together. Dan slowly shakes his head as he watches the kids inch their way closer to him.
Dan Van Santa Clause: This was nowhere in the agreement, David.
Dan takes a deep breath, smirks, and methodically nods his head.
Dan Van Santa Clause: But, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a little somethin’-somethin’ for this adorable group of little shits…
The kids seem to have found their spots and Dan Van Santa Clause leans forward.
Dan Van Santa Clause: OK, kiddos. It was the night before SLAM, and all through the arena, not an Oblivion was stirring, not even some trick named Marina. The ropes were wrapped around the wrestling ring with care – in hopes that St. Deviant would soon be there. The Pack disbanded and are pretty much dead; while “Devious” Dan Van Slade has visions of dancing on Mack’s head. Hardcore Alex with his vengeance, and I with brass knuckles, are about to settle the score as the wrestling world buckles….
Elf David begins to close the door. He’s happy, and continues to listen to the background as Dan’s story is adored by his crowd. All the children contently listen. The door is shut. Dan can be heard behind it attempting his best impersonation of Santa Clause.
DanVanSantaClause: HOES! HOES HOES!